


sunshine, jinnie.

by alltimeyerm



Category: ITZY (Band), IZONE (Band), Stray Kids (Band), TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:48:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27006112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltimeyerm/pseuds/alltimeyerm
Summary: Kim Minjoo is a rebellious noblewoman during the time of the Japanese invasion, and Captain Yujin Ahn is first in command for America's expedition to Hanseong, Joseon.What does one Shin Ryujin and Hwang Hyunjin have to do with it?
Relationships: Ahn Yujin/Kim Minju, Choi Jisu | Lia/Shin Ryujin, Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Minju, Shin Ryujin/Kim Minju
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**the great and noble**

_ tw - slavery, graphic descriptions of abuse _

sentence guide; 

_ italics - english / thoughts _

**_bold - japanese_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ If slaves look too high into the sky, they tend to die young. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ 1871, JOSEON, GOJONG’S REIGN. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When Yujin comes home to see her parents in the main hall, hands tied behind their backs, her breath hitches, and the mounds of firewood she carries on her back falls to the ground, the pounds of wood clattering on top of each other, causing the small crowd of fellow slaves, the guards and the Master of the household to turn their heads towards the 9 year old Yujin, who they dubbed the dirty slave child— out of endearment or out of spite- Yujin was never sure.

“Yujin!” Her mother yells as her eyes land on her daughter, gesturing for her to stay out of sight.

“The slave’s child? Oh of course she’d have a part in this,” Minister Hwang says with a low growl, gripping onto the bow in his hands, the guards turning to await the Minister’s next orders.

“Of course the slave mother would want her child to run away,” The Minister says with a scowl, and her mother rises to her knees, a daring look on her face.

“IT WAS ME! I DID IT— LET THEM  _ GO _ !” Her mother screams in her defence, and she wants to tell her to stop, to not put herself at risk, to tell her to  _ live. _

“Kill the father— let them both watch,” he orders— and at the speed of light, Yujin’s father is thrown onto the hard flooring of the main hall, and they raise their staffs and whips, beginning to beat Yujin’s father with absolutely no mercy, blood beginning to stain his thin clothes. Yujin is tossed to her mother’s side, breathless as everything began to move at an uncomprehendable speed around her, and she shifts her head from one end of the hall to the other, and her eyes land on the Young Master- the often kind and cowardly, Young Master.

He shakes his head.

Yujin’s eyes go wide as she’s forced to watch the scene unfold, her heart dropping with each hit that her father endured— she doesn’t know what to do- she doesn’t know what to feel.

She’s nine years old—

She just  _ doesn’t know. _

Her mother grabs her jaw, and she turns her head to a room at the very edge of the corridor that seemed to run for infinity, and Yujin understands, but a part of her is desperate not to. Her mother slips a necklaceinto her small palms, a necklace she’d stolen from the Young Miss, the priceless gem a sign of noblety to the people of Joseon.

“M-mom?” Yujin croaks, looking up to her mother, with her glossy childlike eyes, and her mother’s lips tremble, but they open.

“Go,” she says, and her grip around Yujin’s shoulder’s loosen, and Yujin wants to say something- she wants to say everything— but she can’t.

“GO!” Her mother yells, earning the attention of the entire hall, and Yujin is trembling all over, out of fear and shock- she was overwhelmed, all eyes were on her, waiting for the Minister’s next orders.

_ Silence echoes through the hall. _

And Yujin starts running.

When that  _ man  _ raises his bow, she starts running as fast as she probably could, gripping the necklace ‘til her palms hurt.

She runs, and she doesn’t look back.

She doesn’t look back at the look of pain and anguish on her mother’s face. And she does not  _ once  _ look back at the image of her father dying right in front of her.

“Go! Go Yujin! Don’t ever come back,” she hears her mother scream before the sound of a whip is audible to her yet again, and she crawls out of the little window out of the tiny room she’d spent her entire life in, out of the woods, into the forest, her hands trembling as she fell out of the home, scarring her little hands.

“GO FAR AWAY FROM HERE!” Her mother calls, and she can hear her being dragged out to the courtyard, where they’d kill her- just like they’d killed her father, just like they’d killed the slaves before them.

They may have just killed them now- but would it please them to know that they’d been dead long ago?

“GET THAT CHILD!” 

The cold winter air pierces through her thin shirt, and she growls, but she moves onward, dragging her feet through the dirt and the thorns of the overgrown weeds, pushing herself through the bushes and shrubs. She hides behind a well as a few guards race past her, screaming and shouting as they scouted through the dark of the night, looking for the dirty slave child.

_ Don’t ever come back.  _

Those words echo through her mind, and Yujin beginsto run again, she runs until she cannot run anymore, then she walks, and after her legs give up on her, she crawls, and once she cannot move even the slightest, she lays.

_ Go far away from here. _

She lays on the ground, the dirt staining her shirt, though her shirt had always been stained anyways. She curls up into a ball, either to avoid getting run over, or to entice that possibility more, Yujin wasn’t sure. Though after what feels like centuries on the cold hard ground, she hears footsteps, and she wants to run again, out of fear and cowardice. She doesn’t want to see that man again. She  _ never  _ wants to see that man again.

_ Don’t ever come back. _

But she’s picked up, and her tiny legs flail around, but she has no energy to resist, and she feels herself being laid onto a bed, and she shivers, which invites her captor or saviour to wrap a blanket around the slave girl, humming slowly as Yujin hears a fire begin to cackle, and for the first time in nine years— Yujin feels safe.

And she questions— how could she feel so safe, yet so afraid?

  
  


——

  
  


Yujin jolts awake, gripping the blanket she’d tossed away last night, breathing heavily as if she we’re still running from her master, jumping to her feet, her eyes scanning every single thing available within her sight. Then her eyes land on an older man, tending to a fireplace in that same room.

“You’re awake, good,” the man says, and he smiles softly and Yujin jolts at the sudden kindness, to which the man chuckles.

“I am Eunsan, don’t be afraid,” Eunsan says, putting down the metal bar he used to tend to the fire. “I am a merchant,” he says with a hand on his chest, and Yujin’s ragged breathing begins to calm down. She’s never seen this man her entire life— there’s no way he could be connected to her old master.

“Tell me about yourself girl,” Eunsan says, and Yujin is trembling, but she opens her mouth to speak. And it feels odd, because she’s never been asked about herself before.

“I’m Yujin,” Yujin says, and Eunsan stares at her, the look inviting her to continue. 

“I’m nine years old- I- I think,” Yujin says, because she’s never learned how to count before. “My dad is Hyunjoo, and my mom is Yejin,” Yujin says, and there’s one more piece of information she knows about herself, but she debates on whether it was wise to say, or otherwise.

“I’m a slave,” Yujin says, and Eunsan just nods.

“I know- only a slave girl would run away from her home at light speed,” Eunsan says casually, and Yujin gulps out of nervousness, but Eunsan simply chuckles. 

“I won’t sell you to the slave hunters,” Eunsan says, but Yujin isn’t relieved just yet- because even if this kind stranger wouldn’t sell her to the hunters, a lot of other people would.

“I was a slave too,” Eunsan says, fiddling with the metal in his hands. Yujin looks at the man, and she finds that he definitely was on the older side of the spectrum, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, a sad look etched upon his face.

“But you know- us slaves—”

“Eunsan-nim!” A person with accented korean come trudging into the home, and Eunsan clicks his tongue, but he turns to the person nevertheless— and she finds a young white man, with blond hair and blue eyes- something Yujin has never seen up close before.

“What do you want Brian,” Eunsan says as he rolls his eyes, standing up to reluctantly greet the foreign man.

“I want to buy chinaware from you,” he says with a soft smile, and Eunsan scowls, shaking his head.

“I’m busy!” Eunsan exclaims. “I don’t have time for your chinaware,” 

“But that’s your job! You make chinaware! Come on Eunsan!” The Brian coaxes, but Eunsan just shakes his head, trying to walk away from the man.

“Please? The people in America really like chinaware— i’d like to bring some back,” he says with a pleading tone, and Yujin’s ears sharpen at the mention of a foreign land, and she rushes to his side, pulling on the man’s coat.

_ Go far away from here. _

“Where is America?”

  
  


——

  
  


_ 1871, The Battle of Ganghwa Island. _

  
  


Seokjin runs through the the dirt and rubble of the sudden battle field, carrying a bucket with coal and flames, a stick in his hands to light up the bare minimum guns and canons the people of Ganghwa Island owned. The Monarch had only sent few troops and barely any guns to the fight- the fight that would somehow ‘destroy the western babarians’, but how on earth would they protect the little island with the bare minimum? The Americans had modern guns that didn’t take full minutes to fire. Cannons that could eject two balls at once. Large ships that could tear down their ports with a single blow.

Who in their right mind in the stupid court of Gojong thought a bunch of fishermen and rookie gunners could stop them?

Seokjin cusses as he scans the area for his father, looking for him— to beg him to run away.

There was no way they’d win this fight.

“Fire!” A man calls, and Seokjin rushes to him, using his stick to light his gun on fire. But before the bullet could fly, the man is shot through the heart, and Seokjin falls over, burning his hand in the process.

“AGH!” Seokjin yelps as cannon is sent flying into the house next to him, and it’s as if the universe stops.

Everything began to blur, the flames in the distance becoming nothing but blurred lines, the sounds of cannons and gunfire fading out into static.

“KIM SEOKJIN!” His father screams, pulling him downwards just as a bullet flies above his head, saving him from near death.

“D-dad?” Seokjin questions, still dazed from the sight of death all over him.

“Fire! Now!” His father's orders, but Seokjin shakes his head.

“Dad! If we leave now- we can still live! Hurry!” Seokjin shakes his father by the shoulder’s ignoring the stinging pain in his hand from the burn

“You idiot! If we leave- who will protect this place?” His father growls, filling his gun with powder and bullets. “Fire!” His father asks again.

“No! W-why should we protect this place?!” Seokjin argues, gritting his teeth.

“Because this is our  _ country  _ Seokjin! Now  _ FIRE _ !” His father demands, trying to grab the stick of Seokjin’s scrawny hands.

“Why should we protect a country that never protects us?!” Seokjin screams, and his father looks at him with a look of betrayal, but before he could open his mouth to reply—

_ A shot. _

Right through his father’s head.

“ _ D-dad? _ ” 

“Dad?! Dad- w— no!”

“Y- you’re not- you—” Seokjin pulls his fathers dying body to the side, and his lip trembles, and Seokjin doesn’t know what to say.

His father was dead.

Seokjin doesn’t believe for a second that it’s his fault.

It was the country, the monarchy and it’s treacherous Ministers. 

So Seokjin stands, and he pulls his father’s gun out of his lifeless hands, and he runs onto the battlefield, looking for anything he could kill, anything he could trade for the life of his father.

And he sees it.

A group of American soldiers, and he sees a blurry figure in the middle- dressed differently, and he screams.

“IS IT YOU?!” Seokjin demands. “Are you the leader?!” He yells again, and he raises his gun, trembling as he shoots the man, and chaos begins to ensue, the American troops rushing to circle around him, causing him to fall onto the rubble, landing right onto the remains of someone’s old home.

The strangely dressed man nears him, and he glares at the man, but his heart drops upon the realisation—

He was from Joseon, and he wore an American tag with his name, and Seokjin burns it into his mind.

_ Choi Wan-il. _

That moment, Seokjin realised—

There was no one left for him to trust.

  
  


——

  
  


Yujin hides in a tiny box on the shaky ship to America, the feeling of nausea and seasickness constantly being replaced with hunger as she rode through the waves. Once a day, she’d sneak out to eat an apple from the loads of food they’d received from Joseon, and the remainder of the day, she’d just sleep in that little box.

Brian said that the sail would take months before they arrived at New York, which seemed to be the Hanseong of America. So each week, the white man would bring her a bottle of water, and she’d save it accordingly- though sometimes the thirst was a bit too much.

After months and months of clear blue seas and grey storms, Yujin finally sees the silhouette of a giant structure amidst the fog. The structure was incomplete, and it seemed to have had a matching part on the opposite of structure, coming from another island. 

_ Like a bridge _ . Yujin thought.

Except it was larger— as was the buildings, and the people, and everything in the City of New York.

So much larger than whatever Yujin was.

Once Brian pulls Yujin out of the box, Yujin tails behind the man, though he acts as if the child doesn’t exist. Yujin hears faint whispers of foreign words as she walks past, but she figures it’s because she looks a little disheveled.

“Yah,” Brian said, Yujin holding back the need to chuckle at his accent.

“Stop following me,” Brian scowls, stomping off, but Yujin has spent her whole life running around, so she catches up easily.

“Please help me sir,” Yujin pleads. “I have nowhere to go here,” 

“But I’ve already helped you! I’ve done my part of the deal,” Brian argues, turning sharply to face the child, though he regrets it when his heart softens upon looking at the scrawny child.

“Please! I will work for you,” Yujin offers. “As long as you give me a place to stay— I will do anything you ask of me— I will give you my life,” Yujin says, and her determination scares the older, who reaches out, but pulls his hand back before he 

says anything.

“You shouldn’t give me your life,” Brian says, in a softer tone as he kneels on one knee to meet Yujin’s height, a blank expression on the runaway slave.

“We Americans believe in having the freedom to live your own life as you wish,” Brian says, and Yujin nods in understanding.

“Don’t give anyone your life okay kid?” Brian requests, and Yujin nods.

Brian smiles softly as he stands up. The God he believed in told him to be kind, to help others. He doesn’t have all the money in the world to raise the kid, but he does have the heart to.

“You can stay with me for 5 years— I have to go back to Joseon after that,” Brian decides, and Yujin breaks into a smile, nodding aggressively, to which Brian smiles upon, though his heart sinks a bit when he sees that her smile is awkward, as if she were a person who didn’t smile often.

“You will teach me how to speak better korean,” Brian says, continuing their walk to his apartment, Yujin now walking beside him instead of behind.

“And you will teach me how to speak english?” Yujin asks, and Brian nods. “You’ve got to kid— all Americans speak english after all,” Brian says casually, and Yujin nods happily, silently praying that Brian would know she couldn’t read roman letters, nor could she even read  _ korean _ letters.

“What’s your name kid?” Brian stops abruptly, turning to the younger, who looks a bit surprised at the sudden halt.

“It’s Yujin sir,” Yujin replies, and Brian is pleased, finding the name similar to an English name.

“We have that name over here,” Brian tells, and Yujin stares blankly, waiting for Brian to continue.

“Eugene— the great and noble,” Brian says, and Yujin can’t help but smile.

_ Eugene, the great and noble. _

She likes that better than Yujin the dirty slave child.

  
  


——

  
  


Growing up in America wasn’t the easiest of feats as a foreigner.

Despite her name now being  _ Eugene _ , she was never fully treated as an American.

The now 14 year old Eugene Ahn (A last name she stole from her master), lived alone in Brian’s cramped apartment, holding the fort while the man continued his endeavours in Joseon. He contacted her once in a while through something known as the telegraph— but Brian warned her messages would be rare as there weren’t many telegraphs in Joseon. 

When she’d go out to work as a shoe shiner, she’d come back with bruises and cuts from fighting with the local teenage boys, and even the people she considered ‘friends’ would say ridiculous things, calling her Chinese when she’d explained time and time again that she was from Joseon.

She’s sick of being told to go back to China. She was  _ American _ . From America. Even if they’d gotten it correct and told her to go back to Joseon, she still wouldn’t want to.

Nobody other than Eunsan wanted her there- and even Eunsan thought it was best for her to leave. 

So after a sparring session with Bradley from Manhattan, Eugene drags herself to her apartment in Queens, walking by the port to get to her destination, some boy named Mark tagging along. Eugene watches the ports fill with people of all sorts, but her eyes land on a group of people in matching uniforms, laughing with each other as they walked towards a navy ship, the flag of America hanging from it’s masts.

She sees those people, happy, smiling, free—  _ American.  _

“ _ I’ve found something,” _ Eugene stops, Mark pulling his attention away from the ground.

“ _ What?” _ He asks, though he bends down to pick up a penny from the ground.

“ _ The way to become American,” _

  
  


——

  
  


Kim Minjoo was born in the late winter of 1875, the 12th year of Gojong’s reign. Her parents died as rebels 2 weeks after she was born, attempting to assassinate Joseon’s greatest traitor, a person Minjoo is  _ dying  _ to meet.

Because of their failure to assassinate the traitor, the Joseon that many died to protect was destroyed by the landing of Japanese naval forces.

With only 14 Japanese troops.

She was then sent to her grandfather, an ex minister to Joseon’s royal court, and now an honoured man. Under him, she’d learned all of Confucius's books, and memorised all of Mencius’ words.

She’d become the perfect lady- everything the public would expect of a noble.

Then again, she’s always been her father’s daughter.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ 1894, 31st Year of Gojong’s Reign. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Kim Minjoo examines the daily newspaper cautiously, her maiden, Nayeon watching the door for her as she sat next to the younger, making sure no one would enter while the Young Miss read the paper.

“The Gabo reform,” Minjoo reads, loud enough for Nayeon to hear, but not loud enough to pierce through the paper thin walls of her home.

“They banned slavery,” Minjoo gasps, continuing to read through the reform. It seemed as if the Japanese were even trying to change their social hierarchy.

“No more civil service examination either,” Minjoo says, hands trailing against the scroll as she analysed every word, Nayeon cocking an eyebrow at the latest news.

“Well, the year of Gabo is the year of change,” Nayeon replies, mixing the powders noble women often used as makeup, though Minjoo never wanted, nor needed it anyways.

“Well what do you think my lady?” Nayeon suddenly says, placing a tray of hair pins and clips that a peddler was selling onto Minjoo’s table, adjusting the books on the table.

“It’s pretty,” Minjoo says politely, though her eyes were trained onto the paper, not even glancing at the accessories.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Nayeon says, pulling another newspaper from underneath a mat.

“Joseon’s Herald, peddler gave you two copies this time,” Nayeon says softly, and Minjoo slides it in between Confucius’ Doctrine of the Mean, where she hid most of her papers.

Her grandfather forbade her from reading the papers, because she was a  _ lady  _ who  _ needed not to meddle in a man's business.  _ Though Minjoo knows part of the reasoning behind it was because he didn’t want her to know about Joseon and how it was beginning to crumble— fearing she would end up a dead rebel— just like her parents.

Then again, she’s always her father’s daughter.

“You’re such a strange girl,” Nayeon says with a sigh, though she has a smile on her face. 

“You’ve always seemed more interested in daily newspapers than jewels,” Nayeon points out, and Minjoo just smiles.

“Arrange a bargain for me will you? I have my eye on the one with sapphires and pearls,” Minjoo requests softly, and Nayeon nods in understanding.

“Of course my lady,” Nayeon bows slightly, standing from her original position to inform the peddler of her lady’s wishes.

Minjoo begins to read the new paper, and she bites her lip as she reads through the distant past of yesterday, the unfamiliarity of today, and she sighs as the overwhelming fear of tomorrow washes over her.

The year of Gabo was the year of change.

Yet it’s time was a time of turbulence.

Everyone, everything, was living through the Joseon changed rapidly.

The Joseon that would stop for no one.

Even it’s own people.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ 1898, The 35th Year of Gojong’s Reign, After the Japanese Invasion. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Eugene stands with her back straight as her shoes clack on the marble floor of New York’s navy headquarters, her beret and coat fitted nicely onto her shoulders as she made her way through the grand hallway, with roman pillars decorating it’s ends, the names of deceased soldiers etched onto the ceiling. The sunlight shone through the pillars, lighting Eugene’s long path to the Major’s office. 

Eugene halts at the four way intersection, and a group of soldiers stop, quickly saluting and greeting their superior.

Eugene dismisses them with a quick salute and the wave of her hand, and Eugene proceeds the way she was heading, the soldiers behind her continuing their journey.

After cursing the hallway for being ridiculously long twice, Eugene arrives at the office, knocking loudly before pushing the door open, taking loud steps to alert the Major of her presence, giving him a quick salute, to which the man waves off.

“ _ Forget that Eugene, _ ” he says, offering him a bottle of whiskey, to which Eugene declines.

“ _ No thanks, _ ” Eugene says. “ _ Aren’t you supposed to be in the hospital though? _ ” She asks, they’d just come back from a battle against Spain, the one they’d dubbed the El Caney order of Battle.

“ _ Well I can still walk,”  _ Major Lucas says, taking a sip of his whiskey. “ _ Can’t shoot guns anymore though,” _ he says with a loopy frown, taking yet another sip of his drink, Eugene just blankly staring at him.

“ _ Well it’s okay,”  _ Lucas says. “ _ At least I survived,” _ Lucas says solemnly before clicking his tongue.

“ _ By the way- how’d you get me out of that ditch?”  _ Lucas asks, finally putting down his glass.

“ _ Well- I thought, I could get a promotion,”  _ Eugene says nonchalantly, shrugging slightly.

“ _ Well your plan succeeded,”  _ Lucas says with a smirk. “ _ Eugene— we made it  _ **_big_ ** _ ,”  _ Lucas boasts, over exaggerating his tone, either from excitement, or the alcohol, Eugene wasn’t sure.

“ _ We got a promotion, and a call from the White House!”  _ Lucas cheers, taking his glass to down his drink once again.

Eugene now thinks she needs a bit of that drink.

  
  


——

  
  


“ _ Major Lucas Moore, Captain Eugene Ahn,”  _ President Theodore Rosevelt says, his voice booming through the presidential room of the White House.

“ _ Yes sir!” _ They both say at once, their hands resting behind their backs.

“ _ Everything has been good for us thus far, and thanks to you two, we’ve made it through the frontiers,” _ Rosevelt said, nodding at the success of his American soldiers.

“ _ Thanks to the Spanish-American war, we have claimed new frontiers, such as- the Philippines, Guam and Puerto Rico,” _ Rosevelt says, determination in his tone.

“ _ So now rather than focusing on the Atlantic European regions, our future depends on the pacific regions around China,” _

“ _ Major Lucas Moore, Captain Eugene Ahn,” _

“ _ Yes sir!” _ They reply sharply, standing straight, ready to accept and proceed with their new orders.

“ _ Speak softly,”  _

_ “Carry a big stick,” _

_ “And set sail for Joseon,” _

  
  


——

  
  


“ _ So is it good news or bad news?”  _ Lucas asks, gripping onto his crutches as they walk through the halls of the White House, their new orders fresh in their minds.

“ _ Joseon- I mean— it must be sensitive to you right? Especially in a time like this, Joseon  _ **_is_ ** _ your hometown right?”  _ Lucas questions, and Eugene pursues her lips, straightening her uniform.

“ _ I don’t believe so,” _ Eugene says, shaking her head as she removed her beret. “ _ I may have been born in Joseon, but America has always been my homeland,”  _ Eugene says with a soft smile, reminding herself of her times with Brian, and Mark- though he wasn’t the most useful friend, he was a friend.

“ _ Joseon…”  _ Eugene says, pondering on her nine years in Joseon, comparing it to her 25 years in America.

“ _ Joseon has never taken me in,” _

  
  



	2. guns and glory

**_FLASHBACK [1894]_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Nayeon,” Minjoo calls, panic evident on her face as she looks through her mounds of books, where she’d originally hidden her collection of newspapers. Yet as she ravages through the stacks of dead trees, she finds no sign of her hidden collection.

“Nayeon!” Minjoo calls louder, and the older woman comes rushing into the room.

“Yes my lady?” Nayeon finally replies, her face equally as panicked as the noble.

“Did you rearrange my newspapers?” Minjoo asks, but Nayeon only becomes more confused, tilting her head in confusion.

“You know I never touch those my lady,” Nayeon answers truthfully, and as Minjoo opens her mouth to speak, another well dressed woman enters the room.

“Min,” Kim Yerim, Minjoo’s cousin, says with a sharp tone, causing the younger to blink in shock.

“What?” Minjoo questions, her heart beginning to beat rapidly at the devilish smirk Yerim often had on her face, though this one was more satanic than the usual.

“Grandfather wants to see you~” Yerim says, the way she spoke somehow mocking the younger.

“You looked through my stuff?” Minjoo questions, to which Yerim shrugs, turning away from Minjoo.

“Maybe,” Yerim elongates her words, as if she were a kindergartener picking a fight, very much opposing Minjoo, who’s mouth can only open and close like a fish, only one thought floating through her mind.

_ Fuck. _

  
  


——

  
  


“Kim Minjoo,” Lord Kim says with a look of disappointment and disgust on his face, Minjoo barely able to make eye contact with her guardian.

“Yes grandfather,” Minjoo says, her voice trembling the slightest bit.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to meddle in a man’s business?” He asks, his voice rising with every syllable.

“It is simply not a lady’s job to involve herself with worldly affairs, I just can’t understand why she does it,” Yerim says as if she were a saint from the local church, Minjoo having to hold back every intention she has to barf all over her grandfather’s lap.

“Father, I will talk some sense into her,” Kim Taeyeon, the woman her father originally married, says with the calmness and serenity she often had in her tone, to which grandfather only scoffs.

“Come on Minjoo, apologize to your grandfather,” Taeyeon says, and Minjoo bites her tongue, because apologizing for doing what she loved wasn’t a very high goal on her bucket list.

“Forgive me, grandfather,” Minjoo says in the formal tone she’s had to deal with all her life. “I am sorry,” she adds, for extra flavour.

“You’re not,” he says, so much for the extra flavour.

“But I mean—”

“You’re lying,” he says, staccatos in his words.

“You will be confined in this house, no visitors may come and you shall read and transcribe the Analects of Confucius— until it’s meaning is tattooed into your mind,” he belows, the punishment causing Nayeon, Taeyon and even Yerim to gulp behind her, Minjoo fiddling with her fingers uncomfortably.

“Do you understand?” Lord Kim asks, and Minjoo bites her lip, wanting to shoot off and create a new dynasty in the woods instead. But that was near impossible, so with all the willpower she had left—

“I understand,” 

  
  


——

  
  


Nayeon dozes off whilst she mixed the ink together, her hands stained with soot as she mashed the ink sticks to be used by Minjoo, who was swiftly writing on the papers given to her to transcribe all of Confucius’ analects, her writing getting even sloppier as she sped through the analects, even her herself not completely sure how on earth she’d managed to transcribe at this speed.

A sudden splash of black stops Minjoo’s brush from moving, the noble’s eyes going wide as her eyes shot to the now very alert Nayeon, trying her best to wipe off the spilt ink.

“I’m sorry my lady! I just—”

“I told you to go to sleep Nayeon,” Minjoo shakes her head, a small smile on her lips as she continued to scribble her transcriptions, Nayeon just sighing in return.

“How can I sleep when you are still awake my lady!” Nayeon argues, pounding the pestle harder than before.

“There's still a lot of ink Nayeon- you don’t need to pound the meok all the time,” Minjoo tells, but Nayeon shakes her head, opening her mouth yet again.

“Why did Confucius have to talk so much?” Nayeon blabbers. “He should’ve become more like Mencius— he made way more sense and talked less,” Nayeon says, placing a finger on her lip before making more exaggerated gestures, Minjoo giggling at the sight.

“There’s ink on your lips,” Minjoo points out politely, and Nayeon quickly leans to the side, trying her best to look into the mirror and keep her balance at once. When she finally succeeded, she clicked her tongue and sat properly again, starting to blabber curses as she always did.

“Ahhh this— oh my god— this is just so— ah!” Nayeon mutters. “Please excuse me, my lady,” Nayeon says, standing up to bow at the youngest of the Kim’s.

“Good luck,” Minjoo says, watching as Nayeon scrambled out of the room. She then turned to the stack of books behind her, the 9 remaining books of Confucius’ she had to transcribe.

_ Good luck to who now? _

  
  


——

  
  


“I did it Yuri,” Chaewon says with her hands on her hips, looking up with pride at the sign she hung, the words  **‘Everything You Want’** written on the board in pitch black ink.

“ _ We  _ did it Wonnie,” Yuri spites, slipping a hand around Chaewon’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe it! Maybe all this change in Joseon isn’t the worst thing in the world,”

“Two ex slave hunters, now successful businesswomen,” Yuri boasts, Chaewon nodding, liking the sound of Yuri’s words.

“How successful?” Chaewon asks, her finger tracing over her chin.

“I don’t know Wonnie,” Yuri says, her lips pursued.

“But I’m sure it’ll be one hell of a ride,” 

  
  


——

  
  


“Grandfather,” Minjoo says, biting her lip as she slid the stacks of transcriptions onto his table, Lord Kim having no expression on his face.

He remains silent for a moment, staring blankly at the stack of papers.

“Why do you always have to win?” Lord Kim says, a sigh of distress leaving his lips as soon as he did.

“Do you even remember what happened to Queen Min?” He recalls, and Minjoo inhales sharply as the tragedy flashed through her head once again, but she regains her composure quickly, holding Lord Kim’s empty stare with a piercing glare.

“I do,” 

“Why did she die Minjoo?” he asks, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“It’s because our country is too  _ weak _ ,” Minjoo spites, and Lord Kim lets out a huff of disagreement.

“No, she  _ socialised  _ with those  _ Western barbarians—  _ interfered in a man’s business, the King’s Duties,” he says sharply, making it sound all too much like a threat.

“Joseon is changing,” Minjoo replies simply.

“You’re wrong again— Joseon is not changing,” 

“It’s falling apart,” he says, expecting Minjoo to be taken aback, but she continues to retaliate, the Lord sighing deeply at how eager his granddaughter was to win.

“Then I’ll only read the papers once a month,” Minjoo offers, her small figure suddenly seeming big to the lord.

“Even lowborn people can study and become important people these days- Choi Wan-il, look at him now,” 

“Why not a woman?” Minjoo continues, tilting her head slightly, questioning her grandfather’s beliefs.

“Because you’re a woman!” he retaliates, and it takes all of Minjoo not to roll her eyes at the grandfather’s mentality.

“You should not be of use,” he makes clear, letting out a huff of breath as soon as he did.

“You’re already considered highly educated for a girl,” he continues, making sure Minjoo had no room in between his words to argue. “The newspapers are  _ too _ much,” Lord Kim says, his voice booming through the room.

“No,” Minjoo replies, her tone stern, and Lord Kim gasps. 

“No?” Lord Kim questions, his hand clenching into a fist.

“Qing, Germany and France are all flooding into Joseon,” Minjoo recalls, telling him all she’s read.

“The Japanese even steal rice from us,” Minjoo tells, distress clear in her tone.

“Joseon is—”

“That’s why you  _ can’t _ ,” Lord Kim growls, his blank gaze turning more and more into a glare with every word.

“Does our country not have a king? Are there no ministers? And even if we did not have any of them—”

“I cannot be  _ you _ ,” Lord Kim says, his tone sharp and commanding.

“Our family has worried  _ enough  _ about the well-being of our country,”

“Your father, your uncle, your  _ mother _ ,” Lord Kim says, reminding Minjoo of the people they’ve lost to the country.

“Be elegant, be proper, find a good husband,” he commands, causing Minjoo to hiss internally.

“Live like a flower, under his care,” he continues, speaking words Minjoo has no interest to hear. 

“Live life the way everyone sees you as,  _ the perfect noblewoman, _ ” Lord Kim reminds her of her position in society, and she bites back a scowl.

“Is that too much to ask?” The Lord is finally silent, and Minjoo takes a deep breath.

“If that’s the way everyone sees me as…”

“Then I would rather die,” Minjoo says, her decision made. 

“Then…”

“ _ Die _ ,”

  
  


——

  
  


“She’s going to die!” Nayeon howls as she lays in distress on the teonmaru, rolling around slightly as she pounded her chest with her fist.

“If she dies, so will I!!” Nayeon cries, earning the attention of the other servants in the home. “I made all her favourite dishes! And now— she’s refusing to eat!!” 

“WAAAAAAAA!!” Nayeon wails, continuing to roll around on the teonmaru outside Minjoo’s room.

Jeongyeon sighs as she watches her partner in crime act like a mad woman on someone else's front porch, turning around as soon as she arrived 5 meters away from the commotion.

_ Why do I have to be the rational one? _

——

  
  


“My Lord,” Jeongyeon says, bowing slightly. “Minjoo has not eaten nor drank in four days,”

“Her servant, my lord, is also acting up,”

“I fear we might have to bury two bodies instead of one,” Jeongyeon says, her hands trembling at her own words and thoughts.

“Listen,”

“Yes my lord?” Jeongyeon responds quickly, awaiting his orders.

“I want to eat some boar,” he says, no expression evident on his face. “Call the gunner,”

“Jin,” 

Jeongyeon is dumbfounded at the lack of compassion Lord Kim had for his granddaughter and Nayeon, and a look of confusion dances on her face before she realises that it would be a tad bit disrespectful to question his orders.

“Right away my lord,” 

  
  


——

  
  


“Seokjin,”

“I am, very much displeased with what Joseon has become today,” Lord Kim says slowly, his words causing Seokjin to shift uncomfortably, because well- he agreed.

“I am sorry to hear that my lord,” Seokjin says quietly, not really familiar on how to initiate small talk with a person as important as Lord Kim.

“Joseon is getting more and more dangerous by day,” he says, sighing at the reality of his Joseon. “And Minjoo— seems to want to become a hidden fighter within it all,” 

“Just like her father,” Lord Kim says solemnly, his dead son leaving a deep scar in his heart.

“I’ve tried to stop her,” Lord Kim says, thinking of the many trials he put her through in order to prevent her from being a carbon copy of her father. “But she always wins,” 

“The very least I can do— is to make sure she survives,” Lord Kim says, word by word, as if he were making a promise to himself.

“I’ve lost both my sons to the ever changing Joseon,” 

“I  _ cannot afford  _ to lose her too,” Lord Kim pleads the universe, and Seokjin nods in understanding, figuring he would have to take care of the noble.

“I’m not asking you to protect her,” Lord Kim counters Seokjin’s own thoughts, taking him by surprise. 

“Please teach her what she needs- to protect herself,” Lord Kim requests, and Jin’s breath hitches for a moment, analyzing his new task.

_ If you could not save your father, there are still so many people- who need saving. _

“Yes, my lord,”

  
  


——

  
  


Kim Minjoo stands awkwardly on the top of a rocky hill, both her fists clenched in a ball of fabric from her own dress, lifting the silk high so that it would not be stained by the dirt on the ground.

“Did my grandfather tell you to kill me?” Minjoo asks, cocking an eyebrow at the older man.

“Winter is long my lady, spare some for me,” Seokjin says, offering her his water satchel, and Minjoo takes it as an offering of peace, deciding that maybe Seokjin wasn’t here to kill her.

“My lady, from this moment on- I will be your mentor,” Jin says, offering the noble a soft smile.

“So, you should be the one speaking formally from now on,” Jin says, his smile turning into a smirk.

“You’ll teach me how to shoot a gun?” Minjoo asks, still using informal language.

“All the kinds of guns,” Seokjin confirms, and Minjoo is still a bit confused.

“Me?” Minjoo questions, whatever happened to everything about being a flower under some old man’s care?

“Your grandfather’s order,” Seokjin tells. “So speak formally, and get changed,” Seokjin orders, but Minjoo always wins.

“How do you know him— sir?” Minjoo asks in an odd mix of informal and formal speech.

“Get changed,” Seokjin repeats, cocking his head in the direction of his little hut.

Minjoo sighs, walking slowly towards the hut, her feet dragging against the ground. But just as she arrives, she turns, to ask yet another question.

“Once I’m changed, will I shoot guns?” Minjoo asks informally, and Seokjin just stares her, at absolute disbelief at how curious this girl was.

“Ignore that, I was talking to myself,” Minjoo turns sharply as soon as she says that, marching off into the hut.

“B-but- it sounded like a question?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_FLASHBACK END_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ 1902, After the Spanish-American War. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Eugene sits at her desk, flipping through whatever files they had regarding their expedition to Korea, and the other tasks she’d been given. 

4 years after the order to send ministers, troops as well as regular citizens to Joseon, Eugene has finally been transferred to work there- as the Acting Consul of the American Legation in Joseon.

A hefty title, but it came with a hefty amount of money too, so Eugene couldn’t complain.

She reads through the main task, and her eyes widen as she rereads the words over again, biting her lip when she finally digests the task at hand.

**Assassinate Private Investor, John Young.**

“ _ You seem a little surprised Ahn,”  _ Lucas says as he taps Eugene on the shoulder, who turns a bit to look her superior in the eyes.

“ _ Just a little,”  _ Eugene says with a chuckle, placing the maps and coordinates down.

“ _ He’s a big investor, that guy,”  _ Lucas points out, pushing away some of the papers to reveal a photograph of the man. “ _ Loves his money a little too much,”  _ Lucas continues, solemnly staring at the picture.

“ _ He’s selling classified information about Joseon to the Japanese and the Russians— tainting the name of good ol’ America,”  _ Lucas says with the click of his tongue.

“ _ So that’s why they sent me,”  _ Eugene says, taking a closer look at the photograph of John. 

“ _ If I succeed, all the credit will go to America,”  _ Eugene speaks her mind, twirling the photo around. “ _ And if I fail…” _

_ “The blame will go to Joseon,”  _ Yujin says, completely sure of her words. “ _ Am I right?” _

“ _ Eugene, as a fellow American,”  _ Lucas says, placing a hand on Eugene’s shoulder.

_ “I can tell you you won’t,”  _ Lucas says with a glint of determination in his blue eyes, and Yujin tilts her head, questioning his words.

_ “And how are you so sure?” _

_ “The plan we’ve demised is foolproof,”  _

  
  


_ —— _

  
  


Eugene packs a number of things into her suitcase, which included a music box Brian had bought for her before he left for Joseon again, something Eugene held close to her heart, as it was something like a peace treaty between the two, a symbol of friendship and a symbol of a now unbreakable bond. She’s not sure how long she’ll be in Joseon, so she packs enough suits and ties for a week, along with a couple pairs of her military uniform. 

She then packs the necklace her mother gave her moments before her passing, staring at it for a moment.

_ Should I? _

“ _ Anybody home?”  _ A voice with a thick Japanese accent says all of a sudden, and Eugene chuckles at the person, looking to the older woman who was struggling to slide through the amples of stuff Eugene had on the floor, because despite being such a highly ranked military officer- she wasn’t the tidiest of people.

“ _ I never understand, how you are still alive,”  _ Sakura says with a small grin, Eugene only laughing at her accent.

“ _ Your english has never gotten better- not even the slightest bit,” _ Eugene points out, Sakura only laughing at Eugene’s statement. Sakura was a Japanese merchant that came to America for good money and a good time, and just happened to be Yujin’s neighbour.

**“I’m not American Yujin-ah,”** Sakura states casually, grabbing Yujin’s tennis racket, twirling it around the length of her hand.

**“I heard you’re being transferred again this time- from Spain to Joseon instead,”** Sakura asks, though she knows the answer.

**“There are tons of Joseon students in America— did you know that?”** Sakura tells.  **“It seems they’ve finally progressed,”** Sakura says with a tone of surprise.

**“Maybe they just don’t want to be isolated anymore,”** Yujin remarks, and Sakura nods with pouty lips, agreeing to her statement.

**“Won’t you be returning to your country soon?”** Yujin asks in return.

**“Yup, soon enough,”** Sakura says, nodding slowly.  **“Say Jinnie- you do know that Japan and Joseon are close right?”**

**“A bit too close if you think about it— but regardless-”**

**“When I go back- you should come visit me in Tokyo,”** Sakura suggests, Yujin continuously shoving stuff into her luggage.

**“In Japan, there are a bunch of things you can’t find in Joseon,”** Sakura says with an irking pride, to which Yujin just chuckles.

**“Bring those things to Hanseong instead,”** Yujin counters. **“I’ll buy you drinks,”**

**“I’m not welcome,”** Sakura says, holding back a frown.

**“But i’ll still take your offer— so you better buy me drinks some time,”**

**“Whatever you say Sakura,”**

  
  


——

  
  


Minjoo walks out of her house slowly, watching the many people passing by, though a group of girls wearing similar attire is what catches her attention the most, as they were being led by a foreign woman, with light hair and fair skin, one of the girls a bit more familiar than the rest of them.

“Hello my lady!” 

“Good day my lady!” the girls greet one by one as they passed Minjoo, bowing slightly.

“My Lady!” The familiar girl calls, running up to her. “My lady! Do you remember me?” 

“I sold some fabrics to you- at your home,” the girl tells, and a list of people flash through Minjoo’s head, trying to figure out what her name was.

“Oh! Oh you— I know you!” Nayeon exclaims, pointing at the young girl vigorously.

“She’s Wonyoung! Her father is the draper, Yun,” Nayeon recalls for Minjoo, who’s lips curve into a smile as soon as she puts name to face.

“You’ve grown a lot- I almost didn’t notice you,” Minjoo says with a smile, and before she could say more, Nayeon cuts through.

“What are you doing with this foreigner?” Nayeon asks, and Wonyoung’s mouth opens as she ponders on her answer.

“Well, I’m going to the new school- to learn  _ english _ ,” Wonyoung chirps, and Nayeon and Minjoo both nod in understanding.

“ _ Who are they?”  _ The teacher asks, Nayeon and Minjoo only staring in confusion.

“ _ Oooh. They are noble family,”  _ Wonyoung answers, and the foreigner nods at her words, offering Minjoo a smile.

“ _ It’s nice to meet you,”  _ the teacher says, and Minjoo is dumbfounded, because her ‘high education’ did not come in set with foreign languages.

“She said it’s nice to meet you my lady,” Wonyoung intervenes Minjoo’s confusion, and she’s taken aback for a moment before she nods, turning her head from Wonyoung to the lady.

“I-i- I totally understood that,” Minjoo says, trying her best to cover up her lie, and her previous confusion.

“You speak that language pretty well,” Minjoo points out, and Wonyoung nods with pride, enjoying the sudden complement.

“Say- this  _ eng-eng- eng—”  _ Minjoo struggles to even say the name of the language, her tongue fumbling around with the word.

_ “English,  _ my lady,” 

“Why do you teach it?” Minjoo asks the lady as if she hadn’t struggled a second ago.

“Is it— for a title? A higher rank?” Minjoo asks, trying to figure out if  _ English  _ would become the new base for the civil service exam. 

“ _ She said—”  _ Wonyoung is about to translate, but she suddenly stops, turning back to Minjoo.

“Actually- I haven’t learned any difficult words yet,” Wonyoung replies with a sheepish smile. “But for me- I’m learning english, not for a title,” 

“But for  _ love _ ,” Wonyoung says the last word in english, and Minjoo cocks an eyebrow, very much curious about this-  _ love. _

“I don’t really want a title- but I do need  _ love, _ ” Wonyoung says shyly, and Minjoo is very much impressed by the power of this  _ love. _

“ _ Lo-ve?” _

_ More than a title? More than a rank? _

_ What could it be? _

_ Lo-ve. _

  
  


——

  
  


Eugene grips onto the edge of the rickshaw as she and the driver made their way to Yujin’s hotel, a place named ‘Glory Hotel’, for a reason Yujin didn’t need to know. She steps off the rickshaw slowly, quickly paying the man and walking off with her military posture, swiftly straightening her coat as she walked through the gates and right into the lobby of the hotel.

She walks in, and the first person she sees, is none other than John Young.

So she slowly places her bag at the concierge, leaving her coat on the sole rack next to the counter. She silently takes a seat at the table behind Young, and she listens in just as they get to the fun part.

**“By tomorrow, America’s technology will light Joseon up, literally,”** John Taylor says, across from Minister Oh Sehun, the minister of foreign affairs in Joseon.

**“Joseon should be thankful to America- this is their modernisation after all, or else they’d be stuck in the dark all their lives,”** John blabbers, and Sehun nods, sipping his coffee quickly.

**“Definitely, and so tomorrow, I will buy you drinks as a thank you, on behalf of Joseon,”** Sehun says, wearing a minimalistic smile in John’s direction.

**“How does Hwawollu** **sound?”** He asks, his smile turning into a devilish smirk as John chuckles, nodding slowly.

**“Oh, well I’ve heard the Geishas there are outstanding,”** John mentions, and Sehun nods in agreement.

**“They say-** **_seeing_ ** **is believing,”** Nakamoto remarks, and they both burst out into incredulous laughter, the two wearing matching intentions.

Eugene shakes her head, and writes it down-  _ Hwawollu. _

  
  


_ —— _

  
  


Eugene readies her rifle as she crouches on top of the roof of some shop in Jongno, aiming at the closed window of the most popular room in Hwawollu, a hand wrapped firmly around the handle of the rifle, her pointer finger placed lightly against the trigger, much contrary to her heart that was hardened in her chest, trying not to care that she was about to murder a father, a husband, a human being.

She sees a geisha in red slide the door open, and Eugene readies her fire, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pull the trigger. She aligns the gun right where his forehead is, and she pulls the trigger.

_ A gunshot. _

_ And another. _

Eugene turns to the right, where the other shot came from, and she sees a thin figure in a coat similar to hers, running off into the night with a rifle. Eugene shoots off into the night with her as commotion began to come to light, guards and regulars screaming for help and searching for the shooter. 

Eugene hops from roof to roof, trying to run as far away from the scene as possible, but when she feels the other figure tailing her, she can’t help but look back to check their distance, and she finds that the figure— was also a woman.

She slides down a roof and hops onto a shorter one, and once she climbs to the peak, she finds the other sniper on the top of the roof opposite her, ready to fire at any time. Eugene quickly mirroring her actions, aiming directly to the shooter's heart.

Both their faces were covered, only their eyes visible to each other, and Eugene finds herself lost in them for a while, but once she comes to her senses, she cocks her gun.

_ One target.  _

Eugene can hear the sounds of the mobs getting louder, looking for a sniper running through the rooftops.

_ Two snipers. _

Eugene places a hand on the trigger, but she thinks for a second.

_ A comrade?  _

_ Or an enemy? _

The 600 new streetlights in Joseon begin to turn on one by one, and the other killer shoots off into the night, and Eugene is left dumbfounded before she jumps off the roof and into the alleyway, where she would once again become Captain Eugene Ahn of The United States of America.

She shifts through the crowds of people who were watching the lights turn on, which doesn’t fascinate Eugene, since America has had the lights for a long time now, but it provided her with good cover from the bodyguards of Hwawollu, so she knew not to sigh about it.

She walks towards a railway where the tram would pass, and as she passes a woman in a  _ jangot _ , who wore a strong scent that was not of flowers, but a strong scent of gunpowder. 

The eyes of the woman with the gun flashes through her mind, and Eugene perks her head up, quickly turning to the woman in the  _ jangot _ , and she finds that she was already staring at her. 

(a/n : jangot - veil worn by korean women to cover their heads and sometimes hide their faces)

The streetlight right above them turns on, and the woman’s face is now illuminated by the light. All her features are now visible to the Ahn, and she is silent.

Her skin is fair and her eyes are round, brown and deep like the universe itself. She’s about as tall as Eugene’s neck, and she looks much younger than her, but she seems to be mature, calm and sophisticated. She has no expression on her face, but something inside Eugene can tell that she’s curious, and she can clearly tell that she knows who Eugene is.

If Eugene didn’t know any better, she would not for a second think that this lady just murdered someone with a rifle. 

But Eugene knows better.

So when the tram causes Eugene to lose sight of her, she treks back where she was heading, her steps loud against the dirt streets of Joseon. She finally ends up under a bridge, where the crowd seemed to have dissipated. She sees the woman looking around, as if searching for someone. 

For a reason not yet clear, Eugene wants it to be her.

“If you’re looking for me, I’m right here,” Eugene announces, walking up to the stranger.

“Sorry to burst your bubble but— no, i’m not looking for you,” she says with composure, and Eugene cocks an eyebrow, because who else could she be looking for?

“You must not be from around here,” she says, and Eugene questions her with an expression.

“The way you speak- it’s formal, yet insolent, and also— you have no clue about who I am,” she says, and Eugene is taken aback. 

“Well- who are you then?” Eugene asks, not intending it to be flirtatious, but it comes out as such, causing Eugene to bite her lip at her way of speech.

“Where are  _ you _ going?” Minjoo asks in return, avoiding Eugene’s question.

“Wherever you’re going, I think that should be where I go,” is all Eugene replies, and Minjoo chuckles before asking yet another question.

“How are you so confident?” 

“There are imposters everywhere, and it seems like we know something about each other,” Eugene replies, sending Minjoo a knowing glance, and before the younger could even open her mouth, a new voice joins the conversation.

“Lady Kim!” Two new voices say at once, two men now approaching the duo.

“Kim Minjoo, my lady! What are you doing here alone?” One of them asks, and Eugene steps back, fearing they would misread her intentions.

“I’m waiting for my company- I had to retrieve my medicine at the apothecary you see,” Minjoo replies with a smile, and they both nod in understanding, something seeming to catch the eye of one of the men.

“Hey! They’re over there! Here! The Young Miss is here!” They call, and 6 people, two servants and four carrying a palanquin appear from underneath the bridge. 

“Are you alright my lady? Who is this girl?” Nayeon asks Minjoo, gesturing towards Eugene, who stands there awkwardly, fixing her tie to make herself look natural.

“She’s lost, and foreign- you two should help her,” Minjoo says, cocking her head towards Eugene, and the two men nod in understanding.

“Of course Lady Kim, have a safe journey!” They say, bowing the woman as she entered the palanquin, the little party of people setting off.

“Hello ma’am- how should we help you? Where are you going?” The two men ask, and Eugene is silent for a moment.

_ “Do you know where the American Legation is?”  _

  
  


——

  
  


Minjoo sits in her palanquin, pondering on the strange woman with the ridiculously long limbs. 

_ Is she an ally? _

_ An enemy? _

_ Who are you? _

She remembers her features with an odd sense of detail, she remembers the all blue suit with the matching coat she wore, the top hat that fitted perfectly on her head. The blinding light she stood in front of as she stared at Minjoo with those intense eyes, digging deep into her soul, as if staring right through her, trying to claw out her secrets, trying to find out who she was.

Perhaps she was asking the same questions.

Thoughts swirl through her head as she debates on the identity of the other shooter, who dressed oddly for a Joseon person, even stranger for a  _ woman  _ to dress in suits, coats and top hats.

Perhaps she was one of their allies? Who didn’t trust her with the job? Just a random foreigner? A hit man? Someone from the Righteous Bandits? 

If she were an ally,  _ who was she? _

But if she were an enemy,  _ why wasn’t Minjoo dead? _

Yet regardless of who she is, is she brave- or just careless?

  
  


——

  
  


Eugene makes her way to the American Legation in Joseon, rather impressed at the size of the place and it’s modern decor. She walks right through the gates and comes face to face with a woman in white traditional clothes, wearing a gat and was clearly a scholar by the way she was dressed. She seemed to be a funny person at first glance, with the way she stood and the odd way she analysed Eugene from head to toe.

“Hello, who are you?” The woman asks, cocking an eyebrow. Eugene also thinks she’s pouting her lips, but she finds that they’re just naturally like that, and she hands her the documents Lucas gave her for identification. 

“Eugene Ahn, the Acting Consul from the states,” she says casually, and the scholar seems to not believe her, scanning the document multiple times over.

“Oh my god! I didn’t think it’d be someone who’s  _ actually _ from Joseon! I—”

“I’m American,” Eugene reminds, and the stranger is taken aback, but she jumps back into her cheery tone almost immediately.

“I’m Yena, I work at the legation as an interpreter- my last name is Choi,” she introduces, and Eugene nods chicly.

“Where’s the minister?” Eugene asks, walking past Yena and towards the main building.

“Oh- he’s currently at the funeral, as you see, we recently lost an American- John Young, he was assassinated,” Yena tells, and Eugene only nods, because she knew all about that.

“Take me to the funeral,” Eugene requests, Yena nodding in understanding.

“I’ll have to give my condolences,”

  
  


——-

  
  


The Musin Society ransacks through the home of the deceased John Young, every nook and cranny of the house being searched for a single document, worth millions of dollars. The members of the Yakuza slammed through all the plates and pans, destroying almost everything in the home to get to what they wanted. Lee Chaeyeon stands in the middle of the mess with an American baby on her back, being the sole maid to the household.

The baby Young cries endlessly on her back, the oldest Lee sighing as she exits the home, deciding that maybe the baby was afraid of the large Japanese people with swords going through her home.

Once she steps outside, she almost runs back inside when she sees the leader of the ever famous yakuza in Japan, Shin Ryujin. Appointed leader as she could speak every language needed to scare the Qing, the Japanese and the people of Joseon. And in Hanseong, if you owed someone, you probably owed Shin Ryujin, and the Musin Society.

“Hello there,” the Korean-Japanese greets, hand resting firmly on the hilt of her sword.

“H-hello,” Chaeyeon greets, placing her hands behind her back to hide to tremble.

“My guys— are they doing a good job?” Ryujin asks, cocking an eyebrow, and as if on cue, Ryujin’s fellow yakuza exit the home one by one, gathering in front of their leader.

**“We did not find the document anywhere in the house, Ryujin-san,”** their second in command, Hwang Yeji says, to which Ryujin just clicks her tongue.

**“Did you not find it— or are you just bad at finding it?”** Ryujin says with a spoon of bitterness in her tone, and they all remain silent, even the most well built of men looking small at Ryujin’s command.

**“You guys couldn’t find it because the document either dissolved into thin air or…”** Ryujin says the impossible, causing some of her men to shift uncomfortably.

**“Because someone has already hidden it somewhere safe,”** Ryujin says, sending a threatening look to the young Chaeyeon, who tries her best to look away.

**“We sent some men to the funeral, and we will tail Ms. Young from there,”** Yeji tells, and Ryujin nods, dismissing them with a quick wave.

Once they ran off, the leader walked painstakingly slowly towards Chaeyeon, looking at the baby before speaking to the Lee.

“Are you sad that your master is dead?” She asks, tilting her head ever so slightly. Her words cause the baby to cry even harder, finding the yakuza leader terrifying to her 9 month old view.

“It’s as if the baby understands,” Ryujin says with a chuckle, smiling at the baby, who alas, only cries harder than before.

“She’s scared,” Chaeyeon says, bouncing the baby up and down as a form of comfort.

“Well I’ll take off then, wouldn’t want to scare her- but— I have to ask, why is she scared?” Ryujin questions, reaching out to touch the child, but her hand never touches the baby.

“I never kill people who can’t give me money,” 

  
  


——

  
  


_ “Your majesty, number of terrorist attacks aimed at foreigners is now an issue we deem  _ **_very_ ** _ concerning at the legation of the United States,”  _ the American Minister, Horace Allen says, his voice booming through King Gojong’s Royal Court where everyone was gathered to discuss the death of John Young, and it’s impact toward peace and order in Joseon,

_ “We demand for a number of US troops to be sanctioned in Joseon, to avoid the deaths of my fellow countrymen by the hands of Joseon mobs, and most definitely— for the restoration of public order!”  _ Horace demands, raising his voice to show his strong opinions regarding Joseon and it’s deteriorating levels of safety.

The translator begins saying his translations, and Gojong leans against his throne, thinking before making any rash decisions.

“Your majesty, do not listen to him— we have our  _ own  _ troops- and even if we do need help, the Japanese will help us, as they always do,” the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Oh Sehun says sharply, earning the king’s attention.

“I beg to differ your majesty, Japan is in no position to help anyone at the moment,” counters Lee Taemin, the Prime Minister of Joseon. “Japanese soldiers are currently causing trouble all over Joseon, it is now best to ask help from Russia—”

_ “Russia cannot even take care of itself at the moment! The United States, on the other hand, is a strong ally of Jo—”  _

“Sehun, Taemin,” Gojong says, silencing all the Ministers in court.

“Yes your majesty,” they both say at once.

“Is there any evidence that a local committed the crime?” Gojong asks, and they’re both taken aback, taking a quick glance at each other before answering.

“No,”

“Then why are none of you mad at the fact that he talks of us as if we are all mobs?” Gojong asks with a sinister undertone, yet his tone and expression remains unfazed.

“Minister Allen,” he says, one of the few things Horace actually understands.

“Yes your majesty,” he says, correcting his posture as part of his response.

“I am sorry for the loss of your fellow American, I also heard the funeral was held today,” he says slowly, so the interpreter would have time to translate his words.

_ “Yes your majesty, I have just returned from the funeral,”  _ Allen replies honestly, which causes the King to tilt his head in confusion.

“But… why are you so chiper?” He questions, cocking an eyebrow.

“ _ Excuse me?”  _ Allen questions, but King Gojong’s expression goes back to normal, and he waves Allen off, which shocks the Minister.

“It is fine then- you all may leave now,” Gojong says, slumping his back in his throne, Minister Allen seeming to be offended at the dismissal of the issue he brought up.

“I am tired,” 

  
  


——

  
  


Eugene sits at the small dock that led out to a lake, a dock she faintly remembers. The last place she lay before Eunsan picked her up and brought her to his pottery shop. Where Brian then was forced to drag her all the way to America, where the blond haired blue eyed man would then raise her as his own. Eugene often compared Brian to a saviour, a guardian angel, which was one of the reasons Brian was now a Missionary, spreading his God to the people of Joseon.

His God, the same God that saved Eugene from Joseon.

The dock isn’t as cold as before, though it will be soon, with winter coming. And Eugene will feel even smaller than Yujin, with her old yet never forgotten memories of the harsh winter and what it did to her father, how her mother took her own life in winter. Everything about winter has always been colder to Eugene, but now- to face that same winter again—

Eugene wants something warm.

So she turns to a little stall situated on the dock, and orders a baeksuk, which was a whole chicken in soup, something she never had the opportunity to eat as a slave in Joseon, so now, the American in Joseon takes her chances, sitting cross legged on the pyeongsang.

(a/n : pyeongsang - elevated platform for sitting)

It felt so strange for her to eat such an honourable meal, so she just stares at the honourable chicken. Wondering if she'd gotten enough honour from America to actually eat the chicken.

“Yoo Ahri are you there?” A random voice suddenly calls, and Eugene looks to the man, who sits at the main building of the shop, placing his rifle and bag against the pole that held up the stall.

“You— you brought back more rabbits? When will you bring back a tiger or something? Coward,” Ahri, the stall owner fusses, taking his rabbits away from him and into the building. 

“Ahh, a tiger cannot be eaten- a tiger can only eat,” Seokjin says, chuckling at Ahri’s words. “One baeksuk please!” Seokjin slides his feet onto the pyeonsang, Ahri coming out almost immediately with a bowl of the chicken soup.

“Here you go— I saved you the biggest one,” Ahri tells, and Seokjin happily digs in, Eugene only watching the larger man engulf the chicken part by part, starting with the legs.

“Were you friends with that chicken?” Ahri suddenly asks the staring Yujin, who stares blankly at the large chicken soup in front of her, getting colder by the minute. 

“You’ve been staring at it with sad eyes for so long,” Ahri comments. “Was it a friend?” she asks, cocking her head.

“I’ve never had this,” Eugene tells, which causes Ahri to raise an eyebrow in disbelief.

“You? You look like you could easily afford ten bowls of baeksuk,” she says, referring the fancy way Eugene dressed

“You want soju?” Ahri asks Seokjin, turning away from Eugene, and Seokjin nods happily, causing Eugene to turn back to her no longer steaming chicken.

She stares at her chicken.

_ Were we friends? _

  
  


_ —— _

  
  


“Perhaps the others made a move because they couldn’t trust me?” Minjoo questions as she shot the broken bowl on the hill opposing the one she was on, absolutely destroying her target.

“Others?” Seokjin questions, Minjoo nodding at her own statement.

“The righteous bandits, one of your guys?” Minjoo asks, shooting the bowl on the hill next to the one she’d just shot, yet again destroying her target. Seokjin is just silent, because he doesn’t remember ever sending another guy to watch over whatever Minjoo was doing.

“She’s a bit clueless- but I feel a bit better, since I have a comrade now,” Minjoo mentions, a soft smile appearing on her face as she thinks about her new- rather cute- comrade.

“Having the same target doesn’t mean she’s your comrade,” Seokjin advises, and Minjoo shoots another target, then turning to Seokjin, questioning his words with her eyes.

“As they say, allies today, may not be allies tomorrow,” Seokjin says. “What i’m saying is- don’t trust anybody Minjoo,” Seokjin says with a serious tone. 

“Including me,” 

“I stopped trusting you awhile ago,” Minjoo replies, turning away from Seokjin so that he wouldn’t see her laugh at his reaction.

“What? When?” Seokjin’s eyes go wide, clearly shocked at Minjoo’s revelation.

“You’re some homeless guy with a gun- and you want me to trust you?” Minjoo says casually, as if she  _ really  _ didn’t trust Seokjin.

Seokjin stares at her for a moment, judging her judgment- but he suddenly fakes a yawn, shaking his head as soon as he did.

“Oh, I’m so tired- you should get going now,” Seokjin says with a monotonous voice, tilting his head downwards as if he were about to fall asleep, Minjoo trying not to chuckle at his horrid acting.

“Of course you’re tired Master, I’ll get going,” Minjoo says with a tinge of sarcasm as she bows slightly, bringing her rifle along with her.

_ What does she mean she  _ **_doesn’t_ ** _ trust me? _

  
  


——

  
  


**“I am sorry, but after the gun went off, I was so scared and didn’t see anything,”** the geisha in red says with a polite bow, and Eugene sighs, as it was the 17th answer involving ‘being scared’ and ‘not seeing anything’ the legation had received that day regarding John Young’s death.

“Sorry Yujin-nim, but I’m not really good at Japan—”

**“So you are also saying, you saw nothing that day?”** Yujin asks, suprising yhe Choi who sat on a chair to the left of Eugene’s table, where the head of the legation would often sit.

**“Yes ma’am,”** the geisha says, and Eugene nods, dismissing her quickly.

The next woman who enters is older, yet familiar to Eugene, but she sets that thought aside as she focuses on interviewing the older woman, who stares Eugene up and down.

“So? Did you see anyone?” Yujin asks, and the woman hisses at her.

“See anyone? I saw you,” she says simply, causing Yena to shoot her head towards Eugene, who gulps at the sudden attention on her.

“You were there too Yujin?” Yena questions, and before Eugene can cover herself up, the woman speaks again.

“Ahh! And Lady Kim! Lady Kim was there with her,” the lady says, and Yena’s attention turns back to the lady, her eyes still wide.

“Lady Kim Minjoo was there?” Yena asks, and the woman nods agressively, Yena seeming to ponder for a moment.

“If Lady Kim was there… she should be questioned too right?” Yena asks no one in particular, earning gasps from the people in the room other than Eugene, some of whom were queuing up for questioning.

“Yah! Are you crazy? You can’t just  _ question _ , Lady Kim Minjoo!” A guy says, the others nodding in agreement.

“We  _ should  _ summon her, right?” Yena continues to ask despite the displeased reactions from the commoners, Yujin just shrugging— was Lady Kim  _ that  _ big of a deal?

“You may have a big position- but you can’t just get her to come here like that- she’s Lady  _ Kim  _ Minjoo!” A second man chimes in, but Yena shakes her head, disagreeing with the men.

“We must be fair! She  _ has  _ to be questioned according to law, and lady Kim Minjoo is just and considerate, she’ll do it!” Yena concludes, and Eugene shrugs, not really minding if the  _ actual _ killer came to the legation.

“Try your best Yena,” Eugene says casually, though to be honest…

_ She does want to see Lady Kim again. _

  
  


——

  
  


“What the heck is this?” A man says as he spits out his coffee, the man across from him swatting him with his hand.

“Yah! Could you be a bit more decent? This is coffee— even the king drinks it,” Hyunjae mutters, trying to fix his friend.

“Choi Wan-il is coming back to Joseon— so you better get acquainted to coffee before you see him,  _ especially  _ if you want to be pro-japanese,” Hyunjae suggests, and Sunwoo nods, sitting up straight in his seat.

“Oh I can be  _ pro-japanese  _ Hyunjae,” Sunwoo boasts, quickly grabbing the hand of a random server at the café of Glory Hotel, the server clearly taken aback.

“Wow- aren’t you pretty?” Sunwoo asks suggestively. “How much does a night with you cost?” He laughs devilishly as he pulls the girl closer, the server clearly uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, I’m a waitress, not a geisha,” she says sharply, but he only pulls her closer, his grip becoming stronger the more she resisted.

“Oh come on—”

“Well look at what we have here,” another woman suddenly appears, walking down from the small flight of stairs that connected the lobby and the café, wearing Japanese attire as she watched Sunwoo harass the woman.

“Oh? Well- it seems like we have another pretty lady here,” Sunwoo growls, not fazing the new woman at all.

“Sunwoo don’t you da-”

“My gosh, you’re even prettier,” Sunwoo states. “Tell me, how much are you a night?” Sunwoo asks, and the woman grabs a saucer from the table and slams it down, causing it to shatter into pieces. She holds onto a piece of the broken saucer and slices his hand with it, causing Sunwoo to screech and release the girl, who falls to the ground.

“I don’t know- why don’t you tell me?” She asks innocently, the girls scramming to her side immediately.

“YOU BITCH!” Sunwoo screams, standing up from his seat to attack to woman, but Hyunjae pulls him back, making sure he couldn’t touch the woman.

“Stop it! Don’t you know who she is?!” Hyunjae scolds, preventing Sunwoo from lunging towards the woman.

“I know i’ll kill this bit—”

“Shut the fuck up! She’s Julia Clarke! The owner of the hotel!” Hyunjae tells, shuting Sunwoo’s mouth with his own hand.

“I am sorry Miss Clarke, we’ll be on our way,” Hyunjae says, dragging the shocked Sunwoo out of the hotel.

Julia chuckles at the situation, the trembling girl detaching herself from her to clean up the saucer, bowing to her employer.

“I’m sorry ma’am— you broke an expensive saucer for me,” 

“Saucers can be replaced- you cannot be,” Julia says simply, leaning down to whisper in the girl’s ear.

“Next time, bite back,” she advises quickly, standing up straight as soon as the words left her mouth.

**“I’m sorry for the inconvenience caused, please remain calm, and a complimentary drink will be sent to your room,”**

_ “I’m sorry for all the trouble— but wasn’t it fun? Don’t worry much, a complimentary drink will be sent to your room,”  _ Julia announces in two languages, all the hotel guests nodding in understanding, going back to their previous conversations and breakfasts.

Julia turns back to the lobby, where Eugene watches from afar, very much impressed with Julia’s speed in defending herself. 

“Well I don’t think I’ve seen you around before, which room are you in?,” Julia says, smiling softly as she approached the now starstruck Eugene, who pauses before answering.

“304, Eugene Ahn,” Eugene says casually, which surprises the hotel owner.

“I was told an American was staying there?” Julia asks, tilting her head in confusion.

“I was told this Hotel was Canadian owned?” Eugene retorts, to which Julia chuckles.

“My apologies then, my name is Julia Clarke,” Julia says before holding out her hand. 

“It’s only fitting, that two foreigners who meet in Joseon, shake hands isn’t it?” Julia asks, to which Eugene only chuckles, pulling out a handkerchief from her pocket.

“That’s quite the wound you have,” Eugene says, placing the handkerchief in Julia’s hand, the latter having no choice but to grip it in her hand. 

“Take care of that first, then send that hand shake up to my room, with the complimentary drink,” Eugene says softly, proceeding to turn from the hotel owner to walk back to her room, leaving a flustered Julia standing in the middle of the hotel’s lobby, only moving when the blood began to drip on the floor, quickly rushing to her room when she came to her senses.

“Aren’t you in a hurry?” Shin Ryujin suddenly says as she leans on the door frame of Julia’s room, wearing a smirk on her lips with her arms crossed as Julia just glares at her, going back to washing her wound.

“Oh,” Ryujin says once she notices the blood in the sink, moving away from the door frame to approach Julia. “Did you get hurt, or did you hurt someone?” Ryujin asks, though she knows the answer, knowing Julia throughout the years taught her a thing or two about the hotel owner.

“Aww, you care?” Julia says sarcastically, Ryujin letting out a huff of breath before stepping even closer.

“What happened?” She asks again.

“I tried to help one of the girls,” Julia says casually, and Ryujin shakes her head, pulling Julia’s hand out of the sink to hold in her own.

“Seems like I should be helping a girl too,” Ryujin says, holding back a smile as she dressed Julia’s wound with the first aid kit nearby, Julia staring at her intently, trying to unveil the yakuza leader’s hidden intentions.

“Did you find the document?” Julia asks, which tears Ryujin’s attention away from her wound, the taller quickly putting her focus back onto the wound afterwards.

“I take that you didn’t,” Julia says casually, always able to read the closed off Ryujin as if she were an open book.

“Do you know anything other than that?” Ryujin asks in return. “We went through everything— even the body, but there’s no sign of it,” Ryujin tells her sob story, to which Julia only pouts to, just to annoy the Shin.

“I’d find it myself if I knew,” Julia says. “That thing is worth a  _ lot  _ of money,” 

“Is Ms. Young, one of the people who come here through the back door?” Ryujin asks, shifting the subtopic to get to the information she needed.

“I never give out that kind of information about my guests,” Julia tells, and Ryujin clicks her tongue, because she knows how Julia works- she was just hoping she’d make the exception for her.

“You know that,” 

“I guess I was all nice to you for nothing,” Ryujin says with an overdone frown, finishing up the dressing for the wound.

“I’ll be off then,” Ryujin says, letting her hand linger on Julia’s before walking away. “Don’t forget to put the ointment!” 

“A scar won’t look too pretty for me to kiss princess,” 

  
  


—— 

  
  


The noble woman, Kim Minjoo sits on Eugene’s seat in the American Legation as everyone stares at the both of them awkwardly, since it wasn’t really clear on who actually had the higher rank between the two of them.

“Well- it actually makes sense that Lady Kim sits there to be honest,” Yena mentions, to which Eugene just sighs, leaning on the table on the left side of the room.

“Ask him why he wanted to see me,” Minjoo says to Yena, who turns to Eugene, who then waves her off.

“A few nights ago when the lights first turned on— did you see anything or anyone suspicious on the streets of Jongno?” Eugene asks directly to the Kim, who cocks an eyebrow at the captain.

“Well I didn’t see anything- didi you?” Jeongyeon suddenly answers, causing all eyes to fall onto her.

“I saw! I saw the stuff I bought- fluffy coats, big boots— winter is coming you know?” Nayeon adds, Eugene closing her eyes so that Nayeon wouldn’t see them roll back in annoyance.

“And you?” Eugene asks, this time making sure Minjoo would be the one to answer.

“These days, Joseon is filled with oddities,” Minjoo starts, Eugene lifting an eyebrow at the sudden speech-like manner she had.

“There’s one in front of me,” Minjoo says. “I’d like to know more details about what I should’ve seen,” she quickly continues, not giving Eugene the time to retaliate.

“Well—”

“Hey,  _ my  _ lady would never see anything suspicious alright? She only looks straight ahead when she walks, and her eyes— her eyes sparkle like the sun! No one could paint eyes like her’s, alright? She’s a work of art! An innocent child! Alright?” Nayeon blabbers, and even Minjoo is a bit confused at what message she was trying to get across, but she maintains her composed expression.

“Well, that wasn’t very helpful,” Eugene says with a disappointed tone.

“I’m sorry, but I know nothing,” Minjoo says, avoiding eye contact with acting consul.

“ _ Yena, bring these two out for some tea- try to keep them out of earshot,”  _ Eugene orders the interpreter, who quickly complies, turning to the duo of servants.

_ “Would you please—  _ I mean- would please give these two some privacy?” Yena asks of the two, and Nayeon is about to spew some ridiculous arguments again, but Minjoo signals her to leave, and with a huff of reluctance, the two exit the room, leaving Eugene and Minjoo alone.

Eugene stands up straight from her position, walking towards the main table so that she would be directly opposing the noble, placing two hands firmly on the mahogany of the table. 

“You do,” Eugene says, catching Minjoo off guard.

“Do what?” 

“Look like a work of art,” Eugene says swiftly, not giving Minjoo a second to question her words.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Eugene decides for the both of them. 

“The sounds of the generators that lit up Hanseong muffled the sound of the gunshot that night— the crowds of people became the perfect hiding place,” 

“That’s why you chose that night,” Eugene states. 

“And you’re asking me this- why?” Minjoo questions, raising an eyebrow.

“I only want your help,”

“I don’t want to help,” Minjoo replies boldly, and Eugene is silenced, but she isn’t silenced for long.

“The bullets in John Young’s head came from two directions,” Yujin recalls.

“Are you sure you didn’t see either sniper?” 

“No, not a soul,” Minjoo replies coldly.

Yuijin takes small steps around the table, making her way towards Minjoo to end up right in front of her, staring at her intently. Yujin raises her hand, her thumb facing the ground as her palm hovered over the bottom half of Minjoo’s face, allowing only her eyes to be visible.

“I think though— I might’ve seen one of them,” Yujin says calmly, and Minjoo can only laugh internally.

“If you say that’s suspicious,” Minjoo says, lifting her own hand up slowly, so that she would mirror Yujin’s actions, feeling her breath on the flat of her palm.

“I think I might have seen one too,” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. god’s blade

**tw** **\- graphic descriptions of violence + mentions of suicide**

  
  


“Who are you?” Eugene asks, pulling her hand away from Minjoo’s face, the noblewoman only glaring at her.

“Who are  _ you? _ ” Minjoo replies sharply. “A part of the Righteous Army- a Righteous Bandit?” Minjoo asks, and Yujin is confused, but she doesn’t show it on her face, choosing instead to ask Minjoo yet another question.

“If I am— will that make us allies?” Yujin asks, and Minjoo wants to answer- but Seokjin’s words ring in her ear.

_ Don’t trust anyone, Minjoo. _

“I’m sorry- but I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Minjoo puts up a facade, looking away from the intense stare Yujin was giving her.

“You see- all I do is learn to paint and sew, so I don’t really know anything,” Minjoo says, playing innocent. “What on earth do you do here?” She suddenly asks, to which Yujin clicks her tongue.

“Only I ask the questions here  _ Lady  _ Kim,” Yujin says, her eyes flickering to Minjoo’s neck before landing back on her eyes.

“You can go,” Eugene says, and Minjoo hesitates for a moment, as if she wanted to say something, but she brushes it off, quickly standing up to march away from the American.

Eugene sighs as she moves away from the table, walking towards the window in the head office of the legation, where she saw Kim Minjoo walking out of the legation and into the palanquin, where Nayeon, Jeongyeon and the quadruple who would lift the palanquin were loyally waiting for her to escort her to wherever her next destination was.

“So what’s the deal with her?” Yujin asks Yena, who stood behind her, waiting for whatever her next orders would be.

“What?”

“This,  _ Lady Kim  _ of yours, how does everyone know her? And why do you all love her so much?” Yujin asks, and Yena nods in understanding, stepping closer to Yujin to tell her the origins of the noble lady, Kim Minjoo.

“Lady Kim Minjoo is the youngest of the very  _ very  _ prestigious Kim family, she’s a  _ noblewoman _ ,” Yena says the last part in a fancy english accent, smiling broadly.

“Her grandfather- Lord Kim Sahong, was not only His Majesty’s mentor, but he was also honored as an Official of Integrity,” Yena says. “It’s a big deal here y’know?” 

“Lady Kim on the other hand, fed the entirety of Hanseong when famine struck— all the rice and beans from her own stock,”

“There isn’t one person in this city that  _ doesn’t  _ owe her their lives,” Yena tells, and Yujin nods, a bit in awe at what Minjoo had done for the people.

“You’ve got to know at least that about her,” Yena says. “Though- because she’s a noblewoman, they keep her ignorant of the realities of the world— which just add on to why every single person in Hanseong absolutely  _ adores  _ her,” 

“Like literally- we’d all die for her,” Yena proclaims, and Yujin gives her a quizzical look, to which Yena tilts her head.

“You good ma’am?” 

“Ignorant?” Yujin questions, because a noble on top of roofs shooting traitors doesn’t strike Yujin as ignorant at all.

“Yes ma’am, she lived a  _ very _ sheltered life,” Yena says as if she spent her whole life with the woman, a dreamy look on her face as she placed her hand on her cheek. Yujin rolls her eyes at the smitten Yena, pushing her hand off her face as she stomped away, shocking the interpreter senseless.

“What? What did I do?!”

  
  


———

  
  


“She’s successful, for a Joseon girl— did you see how she bossed around the Americans?” Jeongyeon says as she walks side by side with Nayeon, Minjoo sitting nicely in the palanquin, observing her hand that had previously been hovering over the captain’s lips.

“She must’ve gotten into western culture early,” Nayeon states, to which Jeongyeon nods in agreement. 

The rumbling and clatter of the tram that passed through all of Hanseong encouraged Minjoo to open the small window of her palanquin, looking out to see the tram buzzing by, carrying all sorts of people on it.

“That thing sure knows how to make noise,” Jeongyeon says 

sourly, shaking her head as it disappeared from their line of vision.

“I heard a lot of the rickshaws had gone out of business because of this thing,” Nayeon says. “And because they started selling jawbreakers, all the taffy vendors at Jingogae are out of business too!” Nayeon complains, to which Jeongyeon squints her eyes, because how in god’s name did she relate public transportation to candy?

“Nayeon unnie,” Minjoo suddenly calls, snapping the duo’s attention away from each other.

“Yes my lady?”

“Turn the palanquin around,” Minjoo requests, a soft smile on her lips as she does.

“Eh? Why? Where do you want to go?” 

“Since you mentioned it— I think i’d like to get some jawbreakers,” Minjoo says with a bright smile, but Nayeon shakes her head.

“But those are so expensive!” Nayeon points out, as if Minjoo couldn’t afford a simple jawbreaker when she could afford to feed the whole country. Minjoo cocks an eyebrow, trying to point out that she was Kim Minjoo, she could by the whole city jawbreakers and still be able to buy at least a hundred more.

“Take her to the French bakery! To the French bakery~” Nayeon chants, and Jeongyeon rolls her eyes at Nayeon’s dramatics, though there’s a small smile on her lips as they trudge through the city, because as much as she sighed at Nayeon’s exaggerations, was about as much as she smiled at Nayeon’s presence.

“You heard her lads,”

  
  


——

  
  


Yeri walks into ‘Everything You Want’, often shortened to EYWA by the people, her jead down as she reached the counter, where Chaewon was wiping some glass bottle she’d recently received from a customer.

“Hey,” Yeri calls, placing Minjoo’s emerald ring on the counter, something she’d stolen after raiding her room a few days ago.

“Hello Lady Kim,” Chaewon greets, eyeing the emerald ring with a suspicious look.

“I need the money for it, and I need it  _ fast _ ,” Yeri says, and Chaewon can only nod awkwardly at the noble.

“Seems like—” Chaewon says as she grabs the ring, analysing it closely, shaking her head. “You lost a lot today,” Chaewon remarks, placing the ring back on the counter. 

“You know you’ve given us all your stuff right? You might as well move in,” Chaewon jokes, Yeri clicking her tongue at the merchant’s form of comedy.

“How dare you! You know who I am,” Yeri spites. “Just give me the money will you?” Yeri demands, but Chaewon shakes her head.

“Sorry, but Nayeon has come around looking for this ring about 5 times already,” Chaewon tells, Yeri gasping at the information, Chaewon having to hold back a giggle at her reaction.

“It’s about time you return this back Lady Minjoo, because it seems Lady Taeyeon already knows about  _ you _ ,” Chaewon warns, the look of surprise on Yeri’s face turning into fear at once.

“T-then what do I do?” Yeri questions. “I need to get my things back! I can’t move in here,” 

“Sorry, but no money, no stuff,” Yuri chimes in, Chaewon nodding in agreement.

“What- what do I do now?” Yeri questions again, and Chaewon just sighs, inching closer to the noble, leaning forward against the counter.

“Listen my lady,” Chaewon says, Yeri leaning backwards to inch away from the merchant. 

“In a game- if you don’t know who’s losing- then it’s probably you,” Chaewon says in a tone of apparent wisdom, her ‘wise’ words only adding to Yeri’s confusion.

“Come again?” Yeri requests, trying to dwell on Chaewon’s words.

“If you don’t know who’s losing, it’s probably  _ you _ —” 

“How dare you!” 

  
  


——

  
  


Shin Ryujin has always been one with the blade. 

If you saw her in her turf, or in her dojo, or wherever she may be, her katana and tanto would always be beside her, whether it be unsheathed or not would simply be your luck.

She’s often found in Jingogae, where her turf was, or she’d be found in someone’s room, ransacking it for money or other valuables, and these were not just things that were valuable to  _ her,  _ but things that were valuable to politicians, to upperclassmen, to the King himself. She and her underlings would do anything for money, and like she said— she only kills people that can give her money.

She stands at the balcony of her home in Jingogae, watching none other than Lady Kim Minjoo from a far distance, completely sure Minjoo wouldn’t even be able to notice her staring. The noble was giggling as she ate her jawbreakers, her two constant companions, Jeongyeon and Nayeon laughing along with her. She’s smiling, and she’s so happy that Ryujin feels like smiling along with her, despite not knowing why she was happy, or how on earth she could be as cheery as she was.

Perhaps those jawbreakers were making her happy.

Ryujin then realises that despite being the leader of the most terrifying group of people in all of Hanseong, and having made base in Jingogae with her home on the same street as the French Bakery— she’d never once tasted a jawbreaker.

**“Do I deserve something sweet?”** Ryujin asks Mina, her housemate and companion ever since she was a teenager, one of the only friends she had.

Mina doesn’t reply, mainly because she suffered from aphasia, but also because she had no desire to reply to Ryujin, her hands were too busy with her tarot cards, trying to determine what Ryujin’s fortune of the day was.

**“Y’know Mina,”** Ryujin speaks softly, her eyes not leaving Kim Minjoo.  **“In Joseon, there a people, who must kneel even in the face of commoners,”**

**“They are called,** cheonmin  **or what I am,”** Ryujin sighs, Mina only able to wonder why on earth Ryujin suddenly had the urge to tell her of who she was, Mina didn’t really care about who she was- as long as Ryujin would stay.

**“A butcher,”**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_FLASHBACK_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The 15 year old Shin Ryujin is bowing on all fours as her two hands tremble, trying her best to keep her head down, to not look up at the people she was bowing to, though her eyes still dart from feet to feet, taking quick glances at the woman next to her. Her mother is next to her, her forehead almost kissing the ground as she kept her hands steady, not wobbly and frail the way Ryujin was.

_ You will not speak unless spoken to.  _

She remembers her father’s words and gulps, wondering why on earth butchers were treated as such. Why society felt the dire  _ need  _ to orchestrate them from everyone else. When they were the ones giving them meat, giving them the very food they ate on their tables.

_ Is it really my sin?  _

_ Is it really me? _

“Oh! These potatoes are really good,” A local commoner, Saeron exclaims as she digs into her broth, consuming the potatoes little by little, Ryujin holds back a scowl as she sees the woman bite into a piece of meat, which she’d clearly gotten from them.

“Of course! It’s winter time- nothing is better than potatoes,” another woman chimes in, carrying a bucket of water she’d used to wash the market’s bowls. She chuckles as she looks to Ryujin and her mother- and not a moment later, she dumps the bucket of dirty water onto the two of them, drenching them in stench and hay she’d gotten into the bucket from god knows where.

“HAHAH! Serves you right,” Saeron mocks. “How dare butchers set foot into the market?!” Her tone grows louder, and she hears her mother sigh- and she can’t believe she’s allowing this to happen to them.

“We're here to get paid,” her mother finally speaks up, the women gasping at her words. “You didn’t pay for the meat you’re eating,” 

“Please pay us,” her mother says with trembling lips.

“You bitch!” The woman with the bucket yells, making Ryujin twitch in fear. “I’ll show you!” She screams again, slamming the bucket against her mother’s head, Ryujin snapping her head upwards at the woman, who was marching towards her mother, to give her yet another beating.

“S-stop!” Ryujin screams, standing up from where she once bowed, pushing the woman away from her mother. “Please!” 

“What the fuck!” The woman screams, pushing Ryujin onto the ground. “How dare you lay your  _ filthy  _ hands on me!” She says as she kicks Ryujin with all her might, the young butcher only able to cover her face in defense.

“You piece of shit!” She continues to curse Ryujin, and her mother jumps to defend her, covering her from the kicks of the now three other women.

They beat them, and harass them until the mother and daughter pass out, waking up late at night, at the same spot they had bowed hours ago.

When they walk back home, her mother says nothing, and when they arrive, she tells Ryujin to see her father- and help him chop up some more meat.

The meat that got them into this mess in the first place.

“Dad,” Ryujin calls. “Why do we have blades?” Ryujin asks, though her tone is lifeless.

“If we cannot wield them at anyone?” She asks, staring at the cow’s remains, that were being chopped up into pieces, to be sold- or stolen, depending on their luck that day.

“Why dad?” She asks again, but her father is silent, chopping away at the flesh. “Why did you give birth to me?!” Ryujin’s volume increases as she demands the truth, the reason, and the answers her father did not have.

“Why did you raise me if you knew this was how I was going to be treated!” Ryujin asks, again, tears forming in her eyes, because she hates this, she hates this too much.

Her father- just like her mother- remains silent, chopping away, ignoring the blood all over his hands, ignoring the tears all over his daughter’s face.

Ignoring the fate that they were forever tied to.

  
  


——

  
  


“M-mom?” Ryujin is shaking from head to toe as she looks her mom directly in the eye, her line of focus trailing from her eyes to her hand, where her mother is holding a bloody knife- pointed directly at her only daughter.

“Go,” she says once, and when she sees the dumbfounded look on Ryujin’s face, she scowls.

“Go!” She yells this time, and Ryujin flinches at her tone and the knife, putting her hands up halfway to protect herself.

“Go die on the streets, go join the bandits, become a gypsy, I don’t care,” she says with a low tone, the serious look on her face causing fear to tremor through Ryujin’s entire body.

“I can’t stand the sight of another butcher,”

“Make sure I never see you again,” Her mother’s volume is rising, and Ryujin is still standing there, lost, staring at her mother as if she were from another world.

“Go! Before I kill you!” She screams as she slashes the knife upwards, slicing right above Ryujin’s eyebrow, the young Shin yelping at the sudden pain, falling onto the ground, facing away from her mother.

She slowly turns to face her mother, breathing heavily as she stared right into her mother’s eyes, her heart crippling when she saw no remorse on her mother’s face- and only anger, pure rage at who Ryujin was. 

“Fine,” Ryujin replies, the anger starting to bubble in her.

“If you hate me that much,” she says bitterly. “I’ll go!” Ryujin screams back, and she stands up, giving her mother one last look of betrayal. 

“I never wanted butcher parents anyways,” 

Deep in her soul, she doesn’t want to be betrayed.

But, very much like her heritage—

Does she have a choice?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_FLASHBACK END_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**“So here I am,”** Ryujin announces as if she’d just come home from a day of murdering people.

**“Saito Ryu,”** Ryujin says her Japanese name out loud, finally turning to look at Mina.

“And when I first returned to Joseon, I made sure everyone knew I was a butcher,” Ryujin tells, Mina simply staring at her blankly.

“Unlike my father, I told everyone I carried a blade,” 

“And cows wouldn’t be the only thing I cut down,” Ryujin says as if she were trying to threaten Mina. 

“First thing I did- was kill Saeron, and that other potato eating bitch,” Ryujin clicks her tongue, Mina a bit confused as to why she told the story. Mina came to Joseon with her for God’s sakes.

“The lady with the bucket— she begged me to save her life,” Ryujin says. “She begged and begged,” 

“But I didn’t choose to live,” Ryujin states, flashes of that woman trembling in fear appearing in her mind.

“So why should she?” Ryujin questioned with a chuckle. “I didn’t kill her, don’t worry- she begged so hard, I felt a little bit of pity,” 

“But- I doubt she wants to live now,” Ryujin says. 

“I cut all her limbs off,” Ryujin announces, and Mina shakes her head, continuing the flip through her cards, finally landing on one that she felt aligned with.

Ryujin smiles at Mina as she stood up, walking further out into the balcony, so she could watch Minjoo yet again, this time closer than before.

**“God, the noblewomen here are very, very delectable,”** a man says from below, somehow audible to Ryujin’s ears.

**“Eh, Joseon women are easy to toy with,”** another says casually, Ryujin’s sight forced onto them instead of Minjoo.

**“Once we have our way with them- they kill themselves!”**

**“Well isn’t that convenient!”** they start to laugh after saying those horrible things, and Ryujin begins to lose her patience, clenching her fist as she glared at them from behind.

“So? Do I deserve something sweet?” Ryujin asks, turning back, to see Mina scribbling on her book.

  
  


They should not have met.

  
  


“You’re  _ so _ good at this,” 

Ryujin jumps off the balcony of the second floor, landing perfectly on her feet, shocking the two men that were speaking ill of the honoured Kim. And everyone stops to stare, knowing that Shin Ryujin jumping off from a balcony would never be good news. Even Minjoo’s attention is diverted from her conversation, eyes finally trained on the feared Shin.

“Oh gosh, something’s got her panties in a twist,” the baker says through gritted teeth, watching as Shin Ryujin walked towards the two men, a hand wrapped around the hilt of her katana.

Ryujin unsheathed her sword, immediately slicing off the hand of the first speaker, making him scream in agony, blood splattering all over Ryujin’s face.

“Oh my god!” Nayeon screeches as she covered Minjoo’s eyes, trying her best to ensure that Minjoo wouldn’t see the scene unfolding in front of her.

Yet Nayeon’s own curiosity prevents her from protecting Minjoo to the fullest. When she turns to look at Ryujin, her hands shift the slightest bit, allowing Minjoo to see Ryujin strike down the second man, cutting straight through his chest.

The first man shoots off as fast as he could, blood splattering out from his hand. But luck is far from him as Ryujin catches up, slicing right through his back, making sure he was as good as dead.

The public has similar reactions, starting to scream in fear, running far away from the yakuza leader as Ryujin finished her deed, eyes slowly rising from the dead body, to the noblewoman. 

“Holy shit,” Jeongyeon says, in awe at the speed Ryujin could kill.

“Isn’t that the girl from the palanquin?” Nayeon questions, removing her hands fully from Minjoo’s vision, the noble taking a good look at the woman who was almost soaked in blood.

“You saved her life,” Nayeon recalls, Minjoo only able to stare at the woman in shock. 

“What a nutjob!” Nayeon exclaims, trying to tear Minjoo’s vision away from the yakuza.

“She gets a second chance at life, and she uses it to kill people?!” 

  
  


——

  
  


Yujin sits at the gazebo located in the garden of the US embassy with Yena in front of her, her piping hot tea sat untouched on the table in front of her. She fiddles with the classic korean necklace, tracing over it’s intricate designs. She looks at the bowl in front of her, made out of china, and she smiles.

“Should I follow the necklace to my enemy, or the bowl to my saviour?” Yujin asks all of a sudden, earning Yena’s attention.

“But, the weather is so nice,” Eugene says with an even brighter smile, looking to the shimmering sun as it’s rays danced against the well kept bushes and trees in the garden.

“I might as well go on a picnic,” Yujin then suggests, Yena tilting her head in confusion.

“Eh?” Yena questions, trying to comprehend what her boss was trying to say.

“I was told to go far  _ far _ away,” Eugene adds, Yena only able to listen to her seemingly meaningless blabbering.

“But I was never told how far I should go,” Eugene says with a solemn sense in her tone. “Do you think I’m there yet Yena?” Yujin asks, but Yena just stares at her blankly, her mouth agape in confusion.

“Did you drink alcohol instead of tea?” Yena finally asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Let’s go and eat,” Yujin offers, and Yena brightens up immediately, clapping her hands in delight.

“Of course ma’am! Your wish is my command,” 

  
  


——

  
  


“Look at you, I know you can easily afford these things- but you should eat!” Yena says, referring to the Ahn, who yet again, was just staring at her beef, perhaps having found yet another friend within her bowl of soup.

“Me? Afford this? I couldn’t eat these when I was in Joseon ,” Yujin tells, finally poking into her beef, but Yena is still confused by her boss’ words.

“What?” Yena asks, but Yujin decides to pass the pain of having to explain her origins to Yena.

“Eat,” she orders, and Yena does so happily, stuffing piece by piece of the beef into her face.

“But, you know ma’am,” Yena suddenly says in between slurps, Yujin silently praying none of Yena’s digested soup would end up in her bowl. 

“John’s a real popular guy- he was an American, in Joseon, trying to sell Joseon to Japan, so, technically speaking, there are three nations involved in his death,” Yena states, and Yujin can’t tell where Yena is going with her words, so she just chews on, waiting for Yena to finish.

“I can’t help but think,” Yena drags her sentence, and Yujin just stares at her blankly.

“Perhaps it was an american who killed him?” Yena suggests, and Yujin chokes on the soup, quickly grabbing a handkerchief to dab off the spilt soup.

“Why on earth would an  _ American  _ kill an American?” Eugene questions, and Yena pursues her lips, taking into consideration Yujin’s simple words.

“Okay it was probably someone Japanese then,” Yena gives in immediately, and Yujin nods, as if she were completely in the dark about the  _ true  _ identity of the killer.

“Oh! And did you know sir, the Musin Society barged into John Young’s house— looking for— a document? I think,” Yena says, Yujin tilting her head in confusion at one of the words used.

“His wife and kid are at minister Allen’s home, hiding from them,” Yena continues, not noticing her boss’ clear confusion.

“Musin?” Yujin questions, and Yena nods vigorously.

“Yeah! Musin! The Black Dragon Society? You know, a bunch of big yakuza dudes led by none other than the fiesty Korean, Shin Ryujin? They make money, terrorise people, and they wear black kimonos and carry around two swords— and did I mention they terrorise people?” Yena says again, and Yujin can’t help but notice a woman and a man who fit Yena’s description walk up behind the interpreter, but she keeps mum.

And when the woman draws her sword, placing it firmly on Yena’s neck- Eugene’s mouth can only fall open.

“They look like this,” Yena says through gritted teeth, trying not to look at the blade on her neck, using her chopsticks to point at the woman, who glares at the interpreter through her sharp eyes.

**“You interpreter! Come with us!”** She demanded, pushing the blade harder onto the woman’s neck, Yujin only staring at Yena in pity.

“Heh??? Why? I don’t know Japanese!” Yena trembles as she explains her situation, trying to pull herself away from the blade, but that would only cause her to topple over onto the ground, so her only option was begging Yujin to save her with her eyes, but the American says something unexpected instead.

**“Yeah, she’s an interpreter, go ahead and take her,”** Eugene says casually, going back to poking at her beef as if Yena wasn’t under the threat of being brutally slain alive by an armed woman.

“YAH! OH MY GOD! YUJIN! HEY!! WHY’D YOU— GET OFF ME!” Yena protests as the well built man lifted Yena off the pyeongsang, dragging her by the heels towards wherever they came from, Yena protesting and thrashing as he did.

“YAH! EUGENEE! HELP ME!” Yena screams for her life, but Yujin continues to ignore her, figuring they’d return her after they were done using her services, but then- whispers from the local people tickle her ears. 

“Oh my god, that poor girl!” One man says, pointing to the struggling Yenas.

“No one they take comes back alive!” A woman says, and Eugene’s breath hitches, she didn’t think they’d  _ kill  _ her, she just thought they needed an interpreter, and that would be it!

“Ah, someone should probably save her,” another voice says.

“Yeah! But they’d probably die trying!” The woman reminds, and she hears multiple hums of agreements, and she sighs. 

“I heard their Shin Ryujin killed two people yesterday at Jingogae yesterday!” A man shares, and there were a few gasps of shock, and Yujin can’t help but sigh even harder than before.

“Can I pay?” 

  
  


——

  
  


Eugene pretends to be strolling casually on the small bridge, watching the sun slowly fade out of the day’s view, though she can see through the corner of her eye, a struggling Yena as four large men and the woman from earlier forcefully escort her to wherever the interpretation was needed.

“Hey! I have  _ nothing _ , I tell ya,  _ nothing  _ to do with the Musin Society! This must be some sort of misunderstanding!” Yena exclaims, but Yujin continues to ignore her, looking at the many trees that decorated the lands of Joseon.

The struggling interpreter takes quick moments to look around for help, and when she sees Yujin trailing behind her, she almost jumps into the soldier’s arms.

“YUJIN! I’M HERE! SAVEEE ME!” Yena begs, and Yujin rolls her eyes, and the woman looks back at where Yena was looking, beginning to glare at the woman in the suit as she ordered her men to stop with the wave of her hand.

**“You, why are you following us?”** She asks, and Yujin clicks her tongue, looking around as if she were pondering on her answer.

**“We’re just going in the same direction, don’t mind me,”** Yujin says, trying to brush the yakuza and her men off her tail.

**“You- should stay out of this,”** the woman threatens, and Yujin puts her hands up in defeat, as if she had no intention of mingling with the yakuza anyways.

The woman draws her bladein a swift motion, and Yujin pursues her lip, admiring the sun’s reflection on the tip of the blade.

**“If you want to draw weapons,”** Yujin interrupts the yakuza’s intention to attack, feeling the pockets of her coat for a brief second before drawing her own gun, a Single Action Army, a revolver she’d brought with her on every war she’d ever gone to. She’d even claimed the gun to be part of her family, naming it Peacemaker Ahn after it’s common nickname, the Peacemaker.

**“It takes two to tango,”** Yujin says as she cocks her gun, pointing it towards the sky.

The woman sighs as she sheaths her sword, clicking her tongue as her eyes remained trained on Yujin’s gun.

**“How annoying,”** she says with the click of her tongue.

**“Leave her,”** she orders, and her men toss Yena to Yujin immediately, Yujin barely having time to react as Yena crashed into her, almost forcing the soldier to topple over if not for her capability to keep her balance. 

The poor interpreter on the other hand ended up on the ground behind Yujin, squeaking in pain as she curled up into a ball, fearing she’d hurt herself further if she were to move about.

**“See you around,”** the woman says, crossing her arms as she shot daggers with her eyes, trying to scar the gunned woman with only her eyes.

Yujin maintains the same moxy as she wears a devilish smirk, looking to the yakuza with daring eyes, as if challenging her to do anything to her. Yet, the swordswoman simply turns away, marching off into the distance with her and her men. 

Yujin’s smirk turns into a smile as they disappear from her field of vision, turning around to yank Yena off the ground, the older standing up straight immediately, quickly trying to brush to dirt off her hanbok as if nothing had happened.

“Thank you thank you thank you Yujin! I really thought you wanted to leave me to die while they took me away,” Yena blabbers, still shivering from the feeling of being dragged by a bunch of muscular Japanese men.

“Does this happen often?” Yujin asks, not bothering to ask about Yena’s wellbeing.

“What?” 

“Them needing an interpreter urgently— does that happen often?” Yujin reclarifies, and Yena is surprised at the truth of the situation, since well— she didn’t speak a word of Japanese.

“They needed an interpreter? But I can’t speak Japanese!” Yena reminds, and Yujin squints her eyes, trying to land on what specific reason the Japanese Yakuza’s had to need an English interpreter all of the sudden.

“Let’s go then,” Yujin suddenly says, confusing Yena for the nth time that day.

“Go where?” 

“Well where were they taking you?” 

“Why?” Yena says, thought it comes out more as a yelp than as a question.

“I’m curious— why would they need an English interpreter?” Yujin questions, and Yena bites back a scowl.

“ _ You’re  _ curious,” Yena says. “ _ I’m  _ not,” Yena says through a fake smile, shaking her slightly trying to subtly scream to Yujin that wherever Musin Society were, was a place where they should  _ not  _ be going to.

Yujin then glares at her.

And Yena then sighs.

  
  


——

  
  


It’s already nightfall when they arrive at the Black Dragon’s lair, and they find that location was a mostly Japanese dominated area, drunk men lazing around here and there, some of them even half naked as they down shots after shots of alcohol.

“Jingogae isn’t a pretty place after sundown,” the local baker, Eunbi says with the click of her tongue, shaking her head at the foreigners and their ways.

The sudden prance of the woman and her comrade from earlier into the scene causes a mini havoc to erupt, the drunks and the baker quickly packing up, almost tripping over their feet to get inside of their stores that double as their homes.

A number of almost 20 men trail behind the woman, making Yena audibly gulp from behind Yujin, the former already cowering behind the taller woman.

“We should run while we’ve still got legs,” Yena whispers, and Yujin flicks her wrist with her left hand, earning a yelp from her comrade, who immediately shuts up after that, cowering behind her boss silently.

**“You’re the one from earlier,”** the woman says.  **“Aren’t you brave for taking a jog around here?”** The woman asks no one in particular, but Yujin shakes her head briefly.

**“You did say you’d see me around,”** Yujin reminds.  **“You miss me already don’t ya?”** Yujin jokes, and Yena quivers in fear, because she personally would not like to be cracking jokes with her future murderers.

**“You bitch,”** she growls, drawing her sword, but Yujin is quicker.

The soldier shoots the blade off the yakuza’s hand, the loud bang accompanied by the sound of metal clashing into metal, the sword ending up on the ground with a thud.

Yujin keeps her gun aimed at the woman, but she can’t deny the slight twist in her stomach as the other 20 men and women draw their swords, ready to attack at their leader’s command.

The woman draws her second sword, and Yujin begins to unveil her true intentions.

**“Who’s Shin Ryujin,”** she asks, index finger firm on the trigger.

“Unless you can magically kill everyone with one bullet— were gonna die you know that?” Yena lays out the logistics from behind her, but Yujin has always had a plan.

“That’s why I shot first, Hanseong is a small city, and the police have ears everywhere,” Yujin says, but Yena shakes her head, doubting her boss’ eccentric plans. 

“Plus- that was a gorgeous shot! Did you see that? Blew it right off her hand,” Yujin whisper yells as she boasts, Yena gasping in disbelief.

“Why are you like this?” Yena questions, but Yujin ignores her.

“The goal is to stay alive until help arrives,” Yujin tells, and Yena shakes her head in fear, going back to her position of shivering in fear from behind Yujin.

The  _ help _ in question— arrives faster than they expect.

“I’m Shin Ryujin,” a voice says, and the men quickly create a pathway as the voice approaches them, bowing down slightly to the figure as a form of respect, yet their eyes and swords were still glued onto the American embassy’s duo.

Yena on the other hand, is back to cowering.

Shin Ryujin wears an outfit different from the rest, she’s wearing a red kimono instead of a black one, black flowery designs embedded into the top. She walks calmly, slowly approaching the Ahn. And once she’s about 4 feet away from the gunner, she lets out a huff of breath, smiling at the visitor.

“If you draw a gun at night in Jingogae of all places— you’re only bound to get into trouble—  _ Yujin-ssi _ ,” Ryujin says with a smirk, taking Yujin aback by the sudden mention of her name, the soldier trying to figure out when she’d ever told the Shin her name.

“I got your name from the hotel owner,” Ryujin answers Yujin’s silent question. “She knows a lot about a lot of things you know?” Ryujin tells, and Yujin puts her gun down, though her finger is still firm on the trigger.

“I’m Shin Ryujin, but you already know that,” She introduces, then pointing to the woman with her thumb. “That’s Yeji, my second in command,” Ryujin introduces, but Yeji just glares at Yujin, the latter looking back to Ryujin to avoid Yeji’s gaze.

“I’m Eugene Ahn, the acting consul of the American legation,” Yujin introduces her American self instead, and Ryujin chuckles.

“Is that a Joseon surname I hear?” Ryujin asks, Yena suddenly butting her head into the conversation.

“She’s American not Korean,” 

“Hm? Well, I was American too yesterday,” Ryujin says, smiling as if she were recalling a jolly memory. “I got paid in dollars, so I was American,” 

“Today, I’m getting paid in Yen, so I’m Japanese,” Ryujin says with a dopey smile on her lips.

“I called for your little friend there because an American, hasn’t paid for my service,” Ryujin tells, putting on a face of pity as she told her story.

“Well, he  _ was  _ shot with a gun, so I don’t blame him,” Ryujin says, and it finally occurs to Yujin  _ which  _ American in particular the Shin had business with.

“So I’m chasing after the widow, Tiffany,” Ryujin says. “But she’s hiding in that Minister’s house, so I thought writing a letter would be a better approach,” Ryujin says with an innocent smile.

“Would the American like to help me with that?” Ryujin asks with a cocked eyebrow, and Yujin let’s out a huff of breath.

“My apologies then, I didn’t know of the circumstances,” Yujin says politely, tipping her hat the slightest bit.

“I’d love to help, but I’ve never been a good writer,” Yujin says truthfully, then turning to reveal the cowering Yena, who had her hands pressed to her ears and her eyes closed just in case a fight would break out.

“I recommend her,” Yujin says casually, Yena biting her tongue at the words.

“She’s a scholar, so she’d be more useful,” Yujin tells, Yena wanting to curse at Yujin for using this moment to boast about her amazing skills.

Yena finally opens her eyes that begin to tremble at the sight of Shin Ryujin, giving Yujin a doubtful look, as if asking her if she actually  _ trusted  _ the yakuza gang.

“Help her out, it seems urgent,” Yujin says, gesturing to Ryujin with her shoulder.

“I trust you,” Yujin says with a small smile. “ _ I’ll see you at the legation, _ ” Yujin adds, turning to Ryujin to tip her hat towards her, marching off the way they came immediately after that. 

_ “What?!”  _

Two men quickly grab Yena by the arms, Yena overwhelmed by shock at Yujin’s sudden depature, trying to snake out of the men’s hold.

“ _ Excuse me?!”  _ Yena yaps in english, trying to turn away, but the men are far stronger than her.

“ _ Oh come on! You’ve got to be kidding me!”  _ Yena blabbers as she’s dragged away, silently praying Yujin would come back to save her once more.

_ “EUGENE!!”  _ Yena’s screams fade away as she’s dragged into the Black dragon’s lair, Yeji walking forward to stand next to Ryujin.

**“What should I do with her?”** Yeji asks, but Ryujin only smiles.

**“Nothing, killing an American would put too much on our plate,”** Ryujin reminds, and Yeji frowns, since the American seemed to be someone who liked butting into people's business, which was not at all good for their business.

_ “EUGENEEE!” _

  
  


——

  
  


Yena takes a deep breath as Minister Lee Taemin presents to him the Royal Command, a scroll in which contained the command to allow American troops to reside and set up a base camp in Joseon.

In order to uphold tradition, Yena does a full bow in front of the document, as if the document itself were his Majesty, proceeding to repeat the process 3 times.

_ “Isn’t it so uncivilized that she bows to a document?”  _ An American says, looking to Yena as if she were an alien, yet she pays no mind, despite understanding every word he said.

_ “The Joseon people even bow to a telephone before answering it,”  _ another one says with a chuckle.

“I, the interpreter Choi Yena, shall receive the royal command,” Yena announces on her last bow, then proceeding to hold the document in her hands.

“I will pass this letter to Minister Allen as soon as he returns from the Unsan Mine,” Yena tells Minister Lee, who nods at the translator.

“I trust you to,” Taemin says, and Yena bows slightly.

“Of course my lord,” Yena replies, and the sudden sounds of a horse’s hooves clacking on the ground cause Taemin and Yena to turn to it’s source, where Yujin was mounted on the horse, ready to set off somewhere.

“Where are your manners?!” Taemin asks the American, who ignores the stranger.

“Where are you going ma’am? His majesty just sent a lett—”

“Do whatever you need, I have business,” Yujin says casually, not even stopping her horse to speak to Yena.

She then dashes off on her stallion, shocking all the Koreans in the location, Taemin only able to stare wide eyed at the woman dressed in American attire.

“Wh-why did—” Taemin stutters for a moment. “Did she just put something above the royal command?” Taemin questions the woman’s rash actions, Yena gritting her teeth at the foreigner’s foreign ways.

“She may look Korean, but she’s purely American my lord, she’s not used to our culture,” Yena explains, and Taemin’s look of offense turns into one of shock.

“An American?” Taemin questions, and Yena nods profusely.

“Yes my lord, she’s been abroad for most of her life,” Yena tells and she’s about to spill more on the American’s ways of living, but she decides against it, bowing politely to the Minister instead.

“She’s different,” 

  
  


——

  
  


Eugene stands on the small pier that faced the lake, and her mind yet again floats back to her memories on the pier, her breath hitching as she remembers her thin clothes being of no assistance to her as she lay on the cold pier, shivering and trembling on the rough texture of the old wood. 

She think of who she is now, with the warmth of a leather coat wrapped around her, a gun in her left pocket.

Yet she’s still too afraid to look too high into the sky.

“Do you need a boat?” Ahri, the woman who owned the samgyetang stall asks, interrupting Yujin from her reminiscing. The soldier turns, and Ahri seems shocked to see her again, immediately identifying the woman.

“Oh? You’re that lady with the chicken friend,” Ahri points out, but Yujin’s eyes can’t help but land on the woman behind Ahri, who was none other than the greatest noble who’d ever lived, Kim Minjoo herself.

“What are you doing?” Minjoo hisses. “Are you following me?” She questions, and Yujin pouts, taken aback by the noble's words. 

“Excuse me? You’re  _ clearly  _ standing behind me,” Yujin points out, and Minjoo looks away in embarrassment deciding not to say anything more to the Ahn.

“Could I get a wherryman? I’d like to go to the kiln site,” Yujin tells Ahri, who simply ignores her.

“Come my lady, I’ll get you to the kiln site,” Ahri says with a smile.

“Please? I’m looking for a potter,” Yujin says. “I owe him,” Yujin tells, but Ahri shakes her head.

“You can leave your name at my stall, and come back next time,” Ahri says casually, turning away from Yujin to guide Minjoo into the boat.

“What? Why do I have to come again?” Yujin protests, and Ahri sighs, turning to look back at the soldier.

“Haven’t you heard the rumours about Hwang Eunsan?” Ahri asks, crossing her arms.

“Even if you’ve waited for three months, it’s still near impossible to get a porcelain pot made by him,” Ahri tells, wearing a bright smile on her lips. “But thanks to him, I can earn a living,” Ahri says proudly.

“It’s 30 dollars for a round trip,” Ahri tells, proceeding to then step into the boat with Minjoo.

“His full name is Hwang Eunsan?” Yujin asks, which causes Ahri to turn back to the American, questioning her with her eyes.

“You don’t know him?” Ahri questions, but Minjoo speaks before Yujin can react.

“She didn’t even know who I was, it’s not surprising she doesn’t know Hwang Eunsan,” Minjoo says, and Ahri blinks at the revelation, her eyes darting from Yujin to Minjoo in a quick motion.

“Do you know how to row a boat?” Minjoo suddenly asks, and Yujin holds back a smirk, because she was the captain of the US Navy, of  _ course  _ she knew how to row a boat.

“I have a lot of experience with boats, and the many things related to them,” Yujin says casually.

“My lady, do you know this weirdo?” Ahri asks, but neither of them reply, and Ahri decides to change to topic instead.

“Well, don’t forget the change you left the last time you came,” Ahri reminds, handing over the oar to Yujin, who gladly takes it from her hands.

Yujin rows at a comfortable speed, admiring the shimmer of the sunlight on the water, something she wasn’t able to do the last time she was here. The water was crystal clear, and the wind breezed past the duo calmly, the only sounds accompanying them the sounds of the swishing waters as the oars cut through the light blue lake.

“I owe you,” Yujin breaks the silence, Minjoo holding back a smile at Yujin’s words.

“Then you should pay up,” Minjoo replies, Yujin cocking an eyebrow in response.

“Someday,” Yujin says, unsure of when that day would come.

“The day will come,” Minjoo says. “If you really do want to pay me,” 

“The day will come sooner than you think,” Minjoo says with a small smile, and Yujin doesn’t know whether to return in or not, which result in Yujin shooting her an awkward smile in return.

As soon as the silence envelops them again, and yet again, Yujin breaks the silence between them.

“Why are you going to the kiln site?” Yujin asks nonchalantly.

“The interrogation isn’t over yet?” Minjoo asks in return, and Yujin pouts again, feeling a bit disappointed that her questions were always rejected by the noble.

“It’s really none of a foreigner’s business,” she says, and Yujin sighs at the vague answers Minjoo always seemed to be packed with when it came to Yujin’s questions.

Instead of continuing to make conversation with the brick wall known to most as Kim Minjoo, Yujin decides to row in silence, trying to find the one question she could ask that Minjoo would surely answer.

Unfortunately for her, the lake wasn’t as big as she anticipated, and they arrived at the kiln site in no time. Yujin awkwardly helping Minjoo out of the boat to avoid her from falling over in her hanbok.

“B-but this has a crack in it Sir!” They overhear someone complain as they approached the home in which Eunsan resided. “We can’t sell this!” The voice complains again.

“Shhh! There are too many orders, we have to sell all we have,” Eunsan replies, and the voice gasps in shock.

“But that’ll ruin your reputation!” He replies, but Eunsan shakes his head.

“Of course we can, if you keep your mouth shut,” Eunsan says, and the man with him clicks his tongue, in total disbelief at his master’s attitude.

“Don’t you know? This  _ crack _ is a part of my art too!” Eunsan scolds the voice, who sighs in disbelief, the two women at the entrance catching his eye.

“ _ I _ can keep my mouth shut, but can they?” he says, gesturing to the two women, who stand still as they watch the Master and his student argue on quality control.

“Well, Lady Kim! Is a— uh— very discreet person, as so they say,” Eunsan says as her stands from his hut, walking up to the duo to greet them.

“And this western-looking fellow, seems to be the quiet type,” Eunsan states based off what he sees, eyeing Eugene from head to toe.

“So, there really is nothing to worry about Hyungseo,” Eunsan says, poking his student with his pipe.

“I apologise for the hastiness my lady,” Hyungseo bows as he says. “I’ll ready the stuff,” he says, running off to retrieve whatever it is Minjoo needed.

“I know why you’re here lady Kim, but who is this westerner?” Eunsan asks, clearly not recognising Yujin after the years and years they’d parted.

“Ahri must’ve sent him for a reason,” Eunsan continues, staring right into Yujin’s eyes as he spoke, finding the woman’s face oddly familiar.

“I’m her wherryman,” Yujin says casually, and Eunsan seems surprised.

“Her wherryman?” Eunsan questions. “Then- shouldn’t you be guarding the boat?” Eunsan asks.

“I came to see the legendary potter Ahri spoke of, but I guess he isn’t here today,” Yujin says in mock disappointment, not missing the slightest upturn of Minjoo’s lips as Eunsan laughed aloud, smiling at the soldier’s sudden joke.

“You haven’t aged much,” Yujin adds, which takes the potter aback.

“What? Do I know you ma’am?” Eunsan asks.

“You’re a very strange man,” Yujin says instead. “You were rude to me until just now,” 

“Perhaps you’ve realised I’m someone you shouldn’t disrespect,” Eugene suddenly says in a serious tone, shocking the potter.

“Huh? What? Where does this fellow even come from?” Eunsan asks, suddenly turning to Minjoo, who holds back a chuckle at the sheer panic on Eunsan’s face.

“Why’d you bring this rude lad—”

“Gunner Jin asked me to say hello to you for him,” Minjoo interjects, Eunsan seemingly trying to wrap his head around the new information.

“He told me to tell you he’s doing well, and he hasn’t changed a bit,” Minjoo relays, and Eunsan clicks his tongue as a reply to the gunner.

“Of course he hasn’t changed! Still as rude as ever,” Eunsan complains, though there’s a smile on his face.

“He said, ‘at least say hello- he’s my friend apparently’,” Minjoo recalls and Eunsan chuckles, in disbelief at the gunner’s words.

“You’ve got it all wrong— that brat, Seokjin’s father and I were friends, not me and him!” Eunsan clarifies, causing Yujin to chuckle at his over exaggerated tone.

“Why are you standing around smiling to yourself huh?” Eunsan asks Yujin now, who is indeed wearing a dopey smirk as she stood there.

“If there’s anything funny, tell us!” Eunsan requests. “I personally would like to laugh too!” Eunsan says aggressively, nearly crossing the line into anger.

“You're taking it out on me now? Why? Because you can’t take it out on the noble lady?” Yujin questions, Eunsan’s mouth falling open in shock.

“How petty,” Yujin says in a serious tone, making the potter’s mouth fall open larger than before.

“What did you just— hey! What a rude westerner!” Eunsan exclaims, taken aback by Yujin’s single insult. 

“Well, since I came here, I might as well buy something,” Yujin suddenly says. “Get me some chinaware will you? Not the one with the crack though,” Yujin requests, and Eunsan gasps in disbelief.

“I’m not selling you anything!” Eunsan bursts. “People from all over the world are waiting for my craft- and they’d love a cracked china!” Eunsan ends his bursts, looking away shyly from the noblewoman as he realised the annoyance in his tone.

“Hey Hyungseo! Why are you taking so long?!” Eunsan asks his missing student trying to drift away from his sudden bursts.

“I want these people gone! Hurry it up!” Eunsan orders, but Yujin just smiles again.

He walks away, but only after spitting on the ground a few feet away from Yujin, hurrying off into his home, away from the annoying foreigner and the ridiculously honest noblewoman.

“God,” Minjoo says, finally allowing herself to laugh at the situation.

Eugene on the other hand, loses the smile on her face as she spots the crate she’d hid in all those years ago.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_FLASHBACK_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Yujin trembles in the small space of the crate as she hears the footsteps of the slave hunter’s close in, the two women scouting around the kiln site for the youngest slave of the Hwang family, who’s head they offered in return for a very handsome price.

Eunsan had left her there as he went to go argue with Brian on the pros and cons of bringing the child to America, which allowed the hunters to sneak in and search for wherever the child maybe.

The thing is, about these notorious hunters, was that they were immaculate at their jobs. 

Thus, Yuri  _ knows  _ the child is inside the crate, trembling and shivering as she hid from the two hunters, dreading the thought of having to go back to the hell that she was supposed to call home.

“Chaewon-ah,” Yuri calls, the younger ravaging around the surrounding crates for any sign of the girl.

“She’s not here,’ Yuri says, but Chaewon to spots the shivering crate, which causes her to question her co-worker and friend with her eyes.

“She’s probably dead Chaewon,” Yuri says. 

And for the first time in their 12 years of slave hunting.

“Let her go,” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_FLASHBACK END_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Eugene rows the boat that was now a tad bit heavier as it carried the weight of the broken bowls and vases Minjoo took from the kiln site. The sky was an calming orange as the light from the sunset bounced on the ripples of the lake, the two rowing in silence yet again. Yet of course, it’s always Yujin’s job to break whatever they had in between them.

“How come he wouldn’t sell me anything and you’ve got a whole sack of bowls,” Yujin points out, shifting Minjoo’s attention from the sunset to her.

“We’ve been doing business for a long time,” Minjoo finally answers her questions, which causes a smile to tug at Yujin’s lips.

“But those are all cracked and broken though,” Yujin points out.

“Anything can be of use if you put it to use,” Minjoo replies casually.

“You have a gunner friend, and you bought some useless bowls— so they must be for shooting practice,” Eugene concludes, and Minjoo tries to not look taken aback, but she can’t help but feel the slightest bit impressed at Yujin’s knack for reading her like an open book.

“I don’t get it,” Minjoo lies, shaking her head slightly.

“It looks like you do,” Eugene replies instead, and with a cheeky smile, she slams the end of the oar into the water, splashing the cold water onto the noble, causing her to flinch at the sudden cold.

“Sorry, I’m just not good at rowing,” Yujin suddenly teases, after rowing them almost the entire way to and halfway fro from stall to the kiln site.

Minjoo suddenly rocks from right to left, causing the boat to tilt from side to side interrupting Yujin’s rowing.

“Sorry, I’m just not got at being on boats,” Minjoo says slyly in return, Yujin smirking at the woman.

“Why did you want to go to kiln site?” Minjoo is the one asking now. “You didn’t seem to want his chinaware,” Minjoo points out, and Yujin lets out a sigh of content.

“I just wanted to see him,” Yujin says simply. 

“You didn’t seem to know each other,” Minjoo points out again.

“I know him,” Yujin replies, to which Minjoo just stares at her in confusion.

“He’s just forgotten about me,” Yujin states, though she doesn’t sound sad about, just a tad bit disappointing.

“Russian bolt action rifles are long-barelled and have strong recoil, so they’re hard to maneuver if you don’t have the strength,” Yujin suddenly says, Minjoo’s eyes going wide at the sudden flow of information. “But, they’re more accurate than German rifles, so you’re less likely to miss you’re target if you master the rifle,” Yujin informs.

“So, you’d need to practice holding it properly before you shoot,” Eugene explains, and Minjoo tries not to meet the soldier’s eyes, trying to keep up with the act that she had no clue on what she was saying.

“That’s my advice,” Yujin finalises, smiling softly at the noble.

“But, you probably don’t get it,” Yujin says in mock sadness, continuing to row the boat.

“I don’t get it at all,” Minjoo replies with a determination to keep up the act, and Yujin just smiles at her, rowing away through the lake.

The necklace that Minjoo wore stole Yujin’s attention from the oars, as it were similar to the ones all the nobles owned, including the one Yujin’s mother stole to give to her. She’s then reminded of the difference in class that seemed to have been abolished from the country, but it stigma’s and notions still seemed to have stuck despite it being years since it was abolished.

Why did it have to be like that?

Could the world just not forget?

“Aren’t you going to row?” Minjoo asks, and Yujin snaps out of her thoughts, shaking her head to dismiss the words in her head.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something,” Yujin says, and Minjoo cocks an eyebrow.

“Thinking about what?” Minjoo asks, but Yujin just pouts.

“You never answer my questions,” Yujin replies bitterly, and Minjoo just sighs.

“You’re such a baby for someone so tall,” Minjoo spites. “Anyways, I always wear the necklace to make sure I look different from when I’m disguised,” Minjoo says.

“You seemed to be staring at the necklace for so long, I just thought I’d let you know,” Minjoo explains her sudden explanation, Yujin biting her tongue at the realization that she was caught staring.

“The newspapers- they all say we’re living in the Romantic era now,”

“An era of literature, art, intelligence, music, individualism,” Minjoo continues. “And perhaps it is true, that this  _ is  _ the Romanticism,” Minjoo agrees with the papers, nodding slightly at her own words.

“Individualism, as there are those who have accepted the western culture and they enjoy coffee, wear clothes from France and enjoy imported goods,” 

“And of course, I’ve had my fair share of it, the individualism, the romance,” Minjoo says, and Yujin looks at her silently as she waits for her to finish, to the point where even her rowing becomes silent.

“Perhaps though, my art, my poem, my romance— lies in the muzzle of my very own rifle,” 

“Though who knows?” Minjoo suddenly adds, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Our meeting that night—”

“Seemed a lot like romance to me,” 

“Comrade,” 

  
  


——

  
  


Hwang Hyunjin sighs as he stares at the telegram message that was delivered to him by his family, only four words written on the message, contrary to the weeks it took to arrive.

**You must come home.**

It read, with no context whatsoever, just a strong, very sharp message from someone who was most likely his mother. 

He sighs again as he tosses the letter to the side. Jisung, his lover in Japan sighs along with him, pulling the other man onto the bed, where they lay in brief silence.

**“What if you don’t like the woman your parents are telling you to marry?”** Jisung asks, and Hyunjin sighs again.

**“I’ll still have to marry her,”** Hyunjin replies with the truth, leaving his cigar in the ashtray.

**“It’s how things are in Joseon,”** Hyunjin says, his disappointment in the reality of things evident.

**“Well that’s not very nice of your country is it?”** Jisung says, pulling the other closer to him.

**“What will you do when you go back to Joseon?”** Jisung asks as he lays on Hyunjin’s chest.

**“I won’t do anything,”** Hyunjin replies simply. 

**“Why?”**

**“What have I done here? Well- I have met you,”** Hyunjin says with a small smile, and Jisung chuckles at the sudden flirting.

**“God, you sinful man,”** Jisung says as a joke, but Hyunjin can’t help but agree.

“You’re right, I am a sinful man,” Hyunjin says in Korean, which surprises Jisung, but he lets it pass, since he’s always like that.

**“You know, when you’re in Joseon, you should jump on the bandwagon and try to sell the country,”** Jisung tells, and Hyunjin sighs as he’s reminded of the situation in Joseon.

“Everyone is trying to sell the country,”

“I don’t even know if there’s any land left to sell,” 

  
  


—- 

  
  


“Here it is my lady,” Chani, the local assistant of the French tailor, holds up a complete suit towards Minjoo, the woman trailing her hands on the article of clothing with a smile on her lips.

“You did great,” Nayeon compliments with a matching smile, Chani only smiling awkwardly.

“Thank you, I suppose Young Master Hyunjin is yet to return is he?” Chani asks, and Minjoo pursues her lips. “Lady Kim always gets a new suit made for him every year,” Chani reminds, and Minjoo nods slightly, because honestly, someone the suits she had made were for herself, and not for Hyunjin.

“He crossed the ocean with big goals, and of course, his studies come first,” Minjoo says, thinking about what on earth Hyunjin was studying for the past 10 years.

“You’re a kind one my lady,” Chani says. “Lady Yerim told me this,”

“Yerim unnie? What?” 

“Oh, she’d come a few days ago to buy a pair of western shoes, but she didn’t pay, saying you would pay for her,” Chani explains, and Minjoo sighs in disbelief at her cousin, who was always telling her to pay for whatever she needed, always coming up with the excuse that she had no money, and she couldn’t ask for some from grandfather because she was already married to a man.

A bloody useless man in Minjoo’s opinion.

“Gosh, Lady Taeyeon would freak if she knew,” Nayeon says with the click of her tongue, Minjoo shutting her eyes in frustration at her lovely cousin, but the western shoes, they might not be as useless as the man Yerim married.

“Those shoes, they’re made in the main store right?” Minjoo asks, and Chani nods.

“I will pay for whatever she took, and I’d like one pair made for myself,” Minjoo says, and Chani both look a bit surprised, since Minjoo was always in her hanbok most of the time.

“I’ll go to the main store myself,” Minjoo says. “Let them know,” 

“Of course my lady,” Chani says with a bow, proceeding to pack the suit in a box.

“But my lady, the main store is in Jemulpo! You’ll go  _ that  _ far for a pair of shoes?” Nayeon questions, Minjoo smiling at her caretaker.

“I’m using this chance to take the train,” Minjoo says with a sly smile, Nayeon not knowing whether to celebrate or fear the news, because her Grandfather would surely not approve of this.

“I want to see if it’s as fast as the people say,” Minjoo says with excitement. “I’ll never know unless I try myself,” 

“Don’t be scared, let Jeongyeon know as well,” Minjoo tells, and Nayeon gasps at the new information.

“ _ We’re  _ going too?!” Nayeon doesn’t mean to yelp, but she does, and though Chani just ignores them, Minjoo can’t help but laugh at the older woman, who seems as if she’s about to jump with joy.

“T-then I’ll need a new set of clothes! I should be well dressed if were going all the way to  _ Jemulpo _ ,” Nayeon exclaims happily, wearing a smile as lightly slaps Minjoo on the shoulder in sheer happiness. Minjoo only able to chuckle and shake her head at the older’s antics.

Nayeon runs off to go tell Jeongyeon the news, smiling to herself as she approaches the younger, who looks at Nayeon as if she’s an alien.

“Guess what!” Nayeon asks excitedly, Jeongyeon cocking an eyebrow at the older.

“We’re gonna ride a train!” Nayeon between with a few giggles, Jeonyeon only staring at her in shock.

“And you can’t be dressed like that!” Nayeon complains, gesturing to Jeongyeon’s worn out clothes that were dull and wrinkled all over, courtesy of her hard work at the Kim’s household.

“Ride what?” Jeongyeon questions. “Lady Kim wants to ride that Japanese steel carriage?” Jeongyeon questions again, and Nayeon pouts, disagreeing with Jeongyeon’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Yeah the Japanese made it, but Joseon people drive it,” Nayeon reminds. “And don’t you have proper robes?” Nayeon asks, but Jeongyeon shakes her head.

“If it keeps me warm, it’s fine,” Jeongyeon says nonchalantly.

“What do you even spend your money on?” Nayeon asks, but Jeongyeon clicks her tongue.

“I’m saving it, just in case you need anything,” Jeongyeon says casually, trying to keep the frown on her lips.

“Why? Do you need new clothes?” Jeongyeon asks, and Nayeon tries to suppress a smile at the odd ways Jeongyeon cared.

“Me? Why would you buy me anything?” Nayeon questions, cocking an eyebrow at Jeongyeon.

“Come on! Stop being silly! Don’t you have proper clothes?” Nayeon asks yet again and Jeongyeon shivers from the sudden cold breeze, and her failure to show Nayeon some form of affection.

“You're cold now?” Nayeon asks, pulling off the scarf from her neck to wrap it around Jeongyeon instead. 

“What should I wear?” Nayeon asks herself this time. “A silk dress would be nice wouldn’t it?” Nayeon says, dusting off her current dress, turning back to Jeongyeon quickly after.

“C-could you lend me some money?” Nayeon asks, showing off her teeth as she gave Jeongyeon a loopey smile, and Jeongyeon can only smile back as she rolls her eyes.

“Everytime Im Nayeon,” 

“Everytime,” 

  
  


——

  
  


Minjoo stares at the foreigner in surprise as Chani tells her to adjust her feet so the measurements for the new shoes would be accurate. Eugene stands in front of her with an awkward look on her face, adjusting her suit so that it would fit snugly around her body.

“Umm, I didn’t think I’d be staying in Joseon for so long,” Yujin says without Minjoo asking. Minjoo trying to calculate the odds of her being able to bump into her this many times. 

Minjoo doesn’t even know her name yet.

“I needed new clothes,” Eugene says, running her hands through her hair to fix it slightly.

“Dark blue looks good on you,” Minjoo says with a soft smile. “It makes you look like a puppy,” Minjoo adds, confusing the American.

“There’s no such thing as a blue puppy my lady,” Yujin says as she fixes her collar, chuckling at Minjoo’s statement as well as her own.

“The odds seem to be with us,” Minjoo says. “You work at the American legation, which means you must speak English very well and I barely ever leave my home, but we meet almost every other day,” Minjoo says, to which Yujin had no reply, it’s not as if she was against seeing Minjoo every other day anyways.

“So, if you don’t mind, could I ask you something about English?” Minjoo suddenly asks. 

“What is  _ love?”  _ Minjoo asks, and Yujin almost chokes on air, but her years in the military has thought her how to be calm under pressure, and in this case, under a  _ lot  _ of pressure.

“Why are you asking?” Eugene asks after a brief silence.

“I’d like to do it,” Minjoo says, shocking the Ahn even more than before. “I heard it’s better than earning a title,” 

“I suppose it is,” 

“But you can’t do it alone,” Yujin replies after a moment of collecting her thoughts.

“I mean, you could, but you’ll need somebody’s help,” Eugene says, trying to recall the bare minimum things she knew about love.

“Then, would you like to do it with me?” Minjoo asks, and Yujin’s eyes go wide, her calm and collected resolve dissolving as soon as Minjoo said the words. 

Yujin keeps her mouth shut, though her eyes are growing in size, in slight disbelief at Minjoo’s words.

“No? I can shoot a rifle too you know,” 

“It’s much harder than shooting a rifle,” Yujin says, trying not to trip over her words. 

“It’s much riskier, much more dangerous, and requires twice the amount of passion,” 

“It must be difficult,” is Minjoo’s reply.

“Why are you asking me of all people?”

“Because you’re my comrade,” 

“Why do you think I’m your comrade?”

“Five people died that night,” Minjoo says. “You and I both know who the true culprit is,” 

“Yet, were both still here,” 

“The only plausible reason, is because we are comrades,” Minjoo says with determination in her tone. “Unless you have another reason for doing so?” 

“That assasination, will be concluded as the act of the remnants of the Righteous Army, a doing of the Joseon people to protect their people,” Yujin drives away from Minjoo’s question, explaining her intentions behind not sending her straight to jail, a serious look on her face.

“I have already achieved what I wanted,” 

“So I don’t think,” 

“We are comrades anymore,” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_Whisper a dangerous secret to someone you care about. Now they have the power to destroy you, but they won't. This is what love is._ **

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> in this universe, i have erased homophobia (for the story to make sense) but sexism is still very much prevalent, which makes puts relationships with men on a higher pedestal than f/f relationships. thank you for reading!


End file.
